


Dream On (But Don't Imagine)

by JaneAire



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arranged Marriage, Depression, Drinking, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fem!Noctis, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friends with benefits promptis, Ignis is a milf, Ignis is very gay and very tired please help him, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Noct is desperate for the D, Past gladnis, Pining, Promnis - Freeform, Prompto is a twink, Purging, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Swearing, Take a shot everytime I change the fic summary, brotherhood era, gladnoct - Freeform, more tags to come, noctluna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneAire/pseuds/JaneAire
Summary: No, no, no, that was absolutely not happening. The boy was nineteen--Ignis was on staff at the Citadel--he was Noctis’ friend for Shiva’s sake, if it were to end badly--Astrals, he's already thinking of an end.“Breathe, Ignis, think this through,” he murmured against the steering wheel. “There's a logical explanation for this feeling. What is it?”You've got a crush on Prompto Argentum.The whine Ignis let out against the leather palm of his glove was absolutely pitiful. Oh, Six, he was so fucked.|Promnis with Gladnoct|





	1. Slow Down, You Crazy Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignis plays virgin alarm, Gladio is the worst adult in existence, and kids will be kids.

Ignis had accepted that his life had reached varying levels of ridiculousness. Gladio liked to remind him of this, with frequence. In all fairness, Ignis didn't really see Gladio tolerating Noctis expecting her shield to act as a maid. 

_Someone_ had to do it--and that someone wasn't Noctis, by any means. 

Ignis accepted his roles, whatever they may be. The Princess would have to move back into the citadel at some point--and then some other unfortunate soul would find themselves being the secretary, maid, chauffeur, chef, tutor, tailor, personal shopper and bloody therapist. Ignis was more than content to be an advisor, thank you very much. He might actually begin to get a full night's sleep for once. 

He'd put up with a lot--and he'd continue to do so. 

He was less than content, however, to spend his Saturday night playing virgin alarm. 

Ignis knew it was his own damn fault for mentioning it to King Regis. He should've just nodded and smiled and said, "Yes, the Princess has friends. Yes, they are good friends. Girl friends. The kind of friends who don't have crazy, wild, unsupervised sex."

All it had taken was Ignis letting slip the fact that Prompto was a boy, and Regis' eyebrows had skyrocketed into his salt and pepper hair, the twinkle in his merry eyes fizzling out like a doused campfire. 

This was how Ignis found himself half reclining on Noctis' leather couch in his living room, watching God awful SNL reruns in his pajamas. It wasn't as if he had other plans, honestly, outside of catching up on some personal reading (which was probably the reason Ignis found himself here--he was half convinced he cursed himself any time he attempted to do something remotely selfish. Indulgences are a vice, after all). Gladio was on a date tonight, meaning his phone was a barren wasteland outside of the occasional news update. The lights were out, save for the soft glow of the tv, and Ignis had a good view of Noctis' bedroom, where she and Prompto were violently tapping out nonsense combinations on game controllers. Ignis could focus very little on his own entertainment, drown out by the zombie groans of the television and the two kids screaming every few minutes. 

Ignis didn't have any proof that they were fooling around. Nothing outside of Noctis' shady search history, which was usual, if Ignis was being honest. She was eighteen, it was high time she'd found herself curious, he supposed--regardless, he didn't really want to have that conversation with her. 

Her texts to Prompto were fairly clean--nothing outside video game characters and the occasional "Specs is being a real ass tonight" which occurred at about a 1:30 ratio in comparison to "I'm going to rip Gladio's dick off". 

Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Occasionally, their texts would give way to something deeper, happening on the nights Ignis could barely rouse her Highness from her bed to get her to eat. Noctis on the verge of falling to pieces--and Prompto had the ability to piece her back together in a way Ignis couldn't. He respected him for that. 

They emerged from their cave around one am, bringing their stagnant teenage smell with them, carting in the now empty pizza boxes--all five of them piled high in the blonde’s scrawny arms. It didn't surprise him. Noctis had the metabolism of a race horse, and Prompto was a teenage boy, after all. Perhaps the carb load would deter them from any other late night actives that required a bit more _stamina_. Ignis blanched. 

Ignis kept still, enthralled that they actually believed he was asleep, the two of them giggling as they navigated the wood paneling of the kitchen as if this were a spy game, Prompto following Noctis’ soft footfalls, hunched behind her, careful not to let the floorboard pop under their toes. It was almost impressive. 

Noctis had lost her pants somewhere, it seemed--he hadn't noticed _that_ movement, which was more than concerning--sporting what appeared to be one of Gladio's black tank tops--he filed that away for future interrogation for Gladio--and a black pair of panties with a bow on the butt that Ignis _definitely_ did not recall buying her, no matter how much Nicki Minaj she listened to. 

Prompto had been kind enough to bother with pajamas--his hair slack without product and glasses on his face, gangly under it all. He was paler in the dim, searchlight glow of the television, painting his skin a pastel blue, smothering the redness of his cheeks into nothing in the bright light. 

From the corner of his eye, lying deathly still in the dim light, he watched Noctis warily. 

She was different with Prompto--less lethargic than he'd seen from her in months. Her dark hair was beginning to curl around her face in an unruly sort of way, and Prompto reached out more than a few times to tuck renegade strands back with his lithe fingers. She pouted at him, but bumped him with her bare hip all the same. Their touches were less than reverent, but something about it still looked ludic, too private for Ignis to be looking as Prompto skimmed his fingertips across the soft skin of her inner arm, imagining the fire she must've felt from the gentle touch. 

Ignis was alarmed to realize how old she'd gotten without him noticing. 

She'd spared few glances in the dark toward Ignis' sleeping form, and Ignis had to bite back on his smirk every time Prompto muttered, "Don't, Noct!" Giggling maniacally under her breath as she fought to slide the door closed slowly, avoiding the creaks--Ignis purposefully didn't see to it that the hinges were oiled, nowadays. There was a sliver of blue light remaining by the time Ignis called out. 

"Noctis," he warned in a tired voice, the door sliding open at an alarming speed and smacking into the wall. Ignis groaned. "Do keep the door open." 

Noctis was standing rigid in the doorway, bathed in the blue light from the television, Prompto a little behind her, staring at Ignis as if he were a ghost. "Six, Specs, we aren't gonna do anything. It isn't like that, you're so embarrassing!" 

But the way Prompto's face heated up in the dim light let him know his suspicions weren't entirely unwarranted. The younger boy is purposefully avoiding Ignis' gaze, glancing behind his shoulder like something very interesting has just spawned to life in the middle of Noctis' mattress. 

"I'm simply following your father's instructions," Ignis reminded calmly--half out of kindness, half because Prompto had once mentioned to Noctis via text how much it unnerved him that Ignis could be so calm and so angry at the same time. He'd been a little proud of himself. "You'd be wise to do the same." 

"What are you gonna do, take the door off its hinges?" She taunted, cocking her hip in a way that Ignis was painfully aware she'd learned from him. Silhouetted in the blue light, he was surprised to see that her bare legs weren't the rawboned noodle limbs he remembered from her childhood. There was a curve to her hip, jutting out dramatically from the black band of her panties, and her pale thighs let no light escape from where they touched one another. That was new, too. Whether it was training with Gladio or the fact that her metabolism was finally starting to betray her, Noctis was _womanly_ in a way that made Ignis much more than unnerved. 

Ignis grinned nonetheless, sitting up, fully aware there would be no sleeping tonight. "If I must." 

"Fuck you," Noct called casually, causing Prompto to nearly fall to his knees behind her at the rate his sputtering had began, glancing between the Princess and her advisor with horrified sapphire eyes. 

"Noct--" Prompto warned.

"You aren't my mom. I can do what I want." 

"Shut up!" Prompto urged through clenched teeth, knocking her on the shoulder with a limp fist. Only Prompto Argentum would tell the heir to the line of Lucis to shut up--Ignis supposed that was why Noctis kept him around. 

Ignis debated briefly about throwing out a vague threat in relationship to her father, but instead shrugged and stretched out again across the couch. "It's late, and you do have classes in the afternoon, your Highness." 

There was a pregnant pause--no irony intended, Ignis prayed--before Noctis responded, and he didn't need to look up to know that she was staring quizzically at him. 

"Right," she mumbled, and Ignis made out the soft crunching sound of her feet against the starched carpet. 

"Uh--night, Ignis!" Prompto called a little too loudly, retreating after Noctis. 

They didn't close the door. 

\----

 

Nearly two am found Prompto starfished on his back on Noctis’ bed, wishing for whichever deity was the closest in proximity to come and strike him down at their earlier convenience. 

_Wishing for death is probably a little excessive, you moron_ , he reminded himself, attempting to scrub the redness out of his face with the soft pads of his thumb, only managing to smudge the bits of that mornings makeup around his face. 

His heart was jackhammering in his chest so loudly he thought Ignis could probably hear it from the freaking living room. _Six, scratch the whole strike-me-down thing. Just send in Ignis. I'd like to go that way_. 

It wasn't that Prompto didn't like Ignis. He did, he seemed like a real cool bro, and Noct liked him. Noct had good taste, he knew. She could see a little bit deeper than everyone else, she knew who the good guys were. Kinda like the princesses in their video games--not that Prompto would ever say that and risk being banished, or something like that. 

_Memo to self: ask if Noctis has a dungeon._

Both cool and fucking terrifying. 

He liked Ignis, it was just painfully obvious that Ignis didn't like him. And sure, maybe half of that went toward the whole weird mother-daughter relationship Ignis and Noctis had that freaked Prompto the fuck out, and maybe Ignis was simply being protective. Prompto supposed if he had a daughter--and said daughter had the decision making skills of Noctis--and a guy looking like Prom waltzed into her life? Yeah, Prom could see where Ignis was coming from. 

That being said, Ignis just knew Prompto wasn't good enough to be around Noctis. 

He hadn't said that--not to his face or anything, but he could tell by the soured face Ignis made when he stepped into the apartment at night and saw that the two of them were hunched together over their algebra book. He'd made it more than obvious he wasn't thrilled to be here tonight, making sure Prompto didn't _dick Noctis into oblivion_ or something like that--Noct's words, not his. The thought wasn't helping the violent flush clouding his skin, either, feeling suddenly too hot on top of Noctis’ lavender embroidered duvet. 

The fact of the thing was, Ignis and Prompto didn't get along. Probably wouldn't, ever, because Prompto was the sort of thing Ignis’ scrapped off the bottom of his elegant Italian loafers. Prompto couldn't decide if Ignis found Prompto burdensome, or if he simply couldn't bring himself to care. 

Ignis was everything Prompto _wasn't._

He let his head roll against the lace pillow, his speckled cheek scratched slightly by the fabric as he gazed at the Princess beside him. Her twilight hair had already begun to tangle, curling against her cheeks in malicious briars, some of it stuck to the corner of her mouth where she'd begun to drool. Her eyes were still darting quick behind her pale eyelids, webs of lavender veins twining like rivers and disappearing behind the smudge of yesterday's eyeliner she'd never bothered to scrub off. Prompto had put it on for her--she never bothered otherwise. 

Part of him knew it was stupid, to feel so small and out of place in a Princess’ bed--because, shit, how many people could say that? And he didn't mean that in, uh, a pervy way or anything like that--Prompto just felt really honored that Noctis tolerated him. 

It was more than most did. 

But he also knew that this--his place here, with her--it wasn't permanent. Prompto couldn't go to those fancy dinner parties or balls or council meetings, no matter how much Noctis whined or begged. Prompto didn't belong here. 

“Someone's thinkin’ deep.” 

His eyes snapped up to her blue eyes, realizing she'd woken up at some point during his lament. Maybe she'd never been asleep. _And you were staring, dumbass_. 

“S-sorry,” he rasped, his voice airy, almost breathless with embarrassment. Noctis’ lecherous smile cut across her face like a knife, laughing at Prompto's terrified expression, as if she were going to jump his bones or something. She giggled. _Well_. 

He jumped when her cold fingers slipped under his night shirt, skimming across the sinewy muscles of his stomach--Noct had seen him shirtless, knew about the scars running across his skin, but he still flinched at the contact for more than one reason. 

Prompto was almost positive this wasn't what Luna meant when she asked him to look after Noct, jolting back again when the blunt ends of her black-painted finger nails traipsed across his skin. 

Noctis’ smile was positively salacious, grinning back at him with eclipsing eyes, her pupil swallowing her twilight irises mercilessly. Biting down on her plush lip, Prompto felt the sudden lurch of oh no in his gut as she glanced up at his through her sticky mascara eyelashes. 

“Wanna do it with the door open?” she grinned, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, knotting her fists in the fabric of his undershirt, dragging his face dangerously close to her own, bumping noses against plush cheeks and her lips searching. 

“No!” he hissed, leaping back and seizing Noctis’ probing hands by the wrists and pinning them to her chest, scooting violently away from her on the bed. “Do you actually want Ignis to come in here and skin me alive? Because he will and then you'll have a Prompto-skin rug, I'm not very pretty--” 

“Oh, shut it, party pooper,” Noctis whined, letting her little hands fold closely to her chest. “Don't let Ignis spoil everything.” She pouted, but nonetheless curled up against his side, the air around them losing its smothering, nicotine scent of ludic smoke and dissipating into a platonic fog that let Prompto breathe a little easier as the Princess pressed her nose against his side. 

“I'm just really attached to all my fingers,” Prompto huffed, letting his fingers card through her unruly briar Bob. 

“He wouldn't cut off your fingers,” Noctis sighed with an exaggerated yawn, pressing closer, knotting her fingers again in the cotton of his shirt. Prompto blushed as she inhaled the scent of it--hopefully, it smelled like the baby blue fabric softener with the chocobo chicks on the front and not like the mile and a half worth of sweat he'd accrued this morning and the pizza grease he'd inhaled a few hours before--and let her eyes flutter close. 

Prompto wondered if she knew she really looked like a Princess. 

“He'd cut off your dick.” 

Prompto was surprised Ignis didn't come run in at the sound of Prompto flinging himself off the fucking bed, Noctis above him smothering her face in a pillow to muffle her malicious laughter. 

“Laugh it up, sleeping beauty. Real funny.” 

She sat up, plucking Prompto's glasses off his face with a nimble finger and placing them on the bridge of her own nose, slicking her hair back with a free hand before sliding her face into a stern countenance. 

“I assure you I'm being perfectly serious,” she mocking in Ignis’ accent. “I do hope you're not too attached to your bollocks, Mr. Argentum.” 

Their raucous peel of laughter died suddenly, following by the boom of “ _Go to sleep, Noctis._ ” from the living room, causing Noct to bolt upright with a terrified expression, before slamming forcefully back onto the mattress, her petrified giggles still lilting in the air. 

Prompto decided he should probably sleep on the floor. 

\----

Ignis was awoken again, late in the night or early in the morning he wasn't certain, the apartment still dewy with darkness, the dawn yet to come to sap the cool droplets away. A quick glance at his watch, perched carefully on the coffee table, let him know it was 4:23 in the morning. 

His first horrified thought that Noctis had denied herself sleep for the first time in her life to fool around with the court jester in there--but a sudden loud, wet sound startled him into the realization it may not have been a conjoined effort that woke him. Thing one sans thing two, no complicity. 

He was bolt upright, hair falling in his eyes as the too-warm leather gave a loud squeak of protest beneath his silk pajama pants--he'd given in and changed once he was positive the hooligans had fallen asleep. 

And yet, from here, he could make out the soft silhouette of the the Princess, the curve of her milky shoulders beneath Gladio's oversized tank, her twilight hair glowing in the moonlight from the window. She was fine. 

Another sloppy sound from the down the hall, a distinctive splash let him know it was _Prompto_ who was making those telltale sounds Ignis was all too familiar with. 

The bathroom door was pressed firmly shut as Ignis approached, the yellow light pooling outside the door like water from a long forgotten running tap, as another aqueous slop sounded on the other side of the door, this time accompanied by a loud retch that let Ignis know, yes, Prompto was really sick. 

Violently, from the sound of things. 

One of the good things about rearing Noctis--and, if he was honest, there was just as much good as bad--was that it had given him a strong stomach. He let himself wait, unfolding his spectacles over his eyes and leaning against the entryway, so that he could coax Prompto into the kitchen when he was done. 

Ignis knew he could pretend he hadn't heard anything and let Prompto fend for himself, but it wouldn't make him a necessarily good person, now would it? The probability of Noctis keeping the boy around for several more years was disturbingly high--Ignis should probably make an effort to get to know him. 

Besides, the last thing he needed was for Noctis to catch whatever Prompto had--she rarely made it to the bathroom when it came to these sort of things, and Ignis was never keen to simply pitch away the Lucian lace of her pillowcases. He didn't have to wait long--a solid four minutes, watching the second hand tick away on his glossy watch, drowning out the retching sounds with the metallic clockwork tick of his watch--before Prompto escaped from the bathroom, eyes downcast and red in the sudden darkness, padding across the hall as if he hadn't noticed Ignis as all. 

Ignis flipped the light on. 

He'd give Prompto credit for one thing: the boy was a walking one-man slapstick routine, sliding into the wall with a horrified gasp, relaxing in realization only _after_ landing on his ass in the middle of the hallway, his face a sudden scarlet. 

“You scared me!” he exclaimed in a staged whisper, and Ignis couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. _And here I was thinking you'd forgotten how your legs worked_. Prompto glanced sheepishly up at him, eyes squinting without the aid of his glasses, and his limp hair framing his face made him look almost older, in a way, had it not been for the obscenely oversized pajama set he was wearing. It was out of character--Prompto usually wore more crop tops and high-waisted shorts than Noctis did, by a mile. 

Ignis chose to not beat around the bush. 

“I can't imagine that food tasted very good the second time,” he deadpanned, watching all the color leach from Prompto's face, the younger boy's eyes facing downcast. 

“Uh,” he began, and Ignis watched perplexed as Prompto's eyes darted frantically across the floor, as if the wood grain held a script for him. _He's very easily embarrassed._ “It's got nothing on your cooking, if that's what you mean?” he squeaked, and, daring a glance up at the advisor, Ignis blinked. 

“You've got a fever, too, by the looks of things,” Ignis noted under his breath, extending a hand (what a time forget his gloves, he'd be scrubbing his hands at the sink for five minutes straight) to help the boy up. Prompto stared animatedly, mouth floundered open. Ignis sighed, shaking his hand a little in front of the boy's face, watching his freckles disappear into his flushed skin.

“Prompto,” he groaned.

Prompto's eyes darted up, chin jerking and hair flying. “Y-yes?” 

_Don't scare him._ Ignis smiled softly, making a show of waving his hand again for the boy to take. “Let's take your temperature in the kitchen, if you please?” 

“Uh, Y-yeah! Course, thanks,” he mumbled, letting his voice drop softly before slipping his bare hand into Ignis’ surprised to find the older man's hand cold and rough. _So, the glove isn't full of Vaseline. I owe Noct money_.  
Prompto let go of the hand the second he was righted, moving instead to grip the hem of his oversized tee and follow Ignis into the kitchen as he flipped on all the lights, the guilt starting to eat him, just a little. 

Ignis gestured for Prom to plant himself on a barstool, and he followed instructions quickly as Ignis removed a little tin box from over the fridge. 

Ignis looked tired, Prompto realized, squinting behind his glasses this early in the morning--he'd never seen Ignis in pajamas. He'd never seen Ignis without dress slacks or a button up. And yet, here he was, bustling around in the kitchen on two hours of sleep with his hair limp in his eyes and a cream colored silk pajama set--working for Prompto. 

Prompto should really tell him he wasn't sick.  
How do you explain that? _Sorry, no, I don't have the flu, I just felt disgusting about eating an entire fucking pizza and decided to puke my guts out in the Princess of Lucis’ toilet. Sorry about the confusion, buddy. Hope we can be friends._

“Do you think it was food poisoning?” Ignis’ smooth tenor, almost raspy in the early morning snapped him out of his revere. 

“Oh, uh, I guess?” Prompto lied none too smoothly, but Ignis just nodded sagely, placing a purple vial of something in front of Prompto. 

“Don't drink that yet. We've got to get something on your stomach first.” 

_Great_. 

Ignis’ eyes were shadowed purple underneath--he was tired. He should go to bed. 

“You really don't have to take care of me, Ignis--” Prompto began nervously, shaking his hands in front of his face, before Ignis tapped him on the forehead lightly with a thermometer. Prompto froze, watching Ignis’ light smile. That was two in one night. 

_Have I ever seen him smile like that before? With his eyes all soft and half-lidded?_

“Nonsense. What kind of advisor would I be if I let her highness’ best friend die on me?” he grinned toothily, tapping Prompto again on the nose like he must've done hundreds of times for Noctis as a child. 

“I'm a bad patient,” Prompto argued, glaring at the purple vial, knowing full well he wouldn't drink it, let alone put something else on his stomach. Ignis grinned again, forest eyes twinkling with something akin to mischief. 

“Fortunately for you, I majored in mothering.” 

Prompto choked on his breath, using his hands to smother a laugh between his lithe fingers. At least he knew they made fun of him behind his back. 

“Now, lean in,” Ignis commanding with a quirk of his hand, his fingertips squared in a masculine way that made Prompto feel--maybe for the first time--too small. “Let's check your fever.” 

The back of Ignis’ hand was just as rough as his palm, maybe less so, as it pressed itself firmly against Prompto's forehead, his green eyes probing Prompto's, searching for something there. “You're warm.”

At least Prompto's brain was still sentient enough to bite down on the involuntary thanks, despite the short-circuiting fact that Ignis was touching him. Had they touched before? Prompto didn't think so, not before tonight. He was hyper aware of the fact he was sweaty from the shaking he'd done in the bathroom. 

“Open wide,” Ignis commanded, fighting back the instinctive urge to squeeze the small boy's jaw the way he'd had to do Noctis’ so many times before. It was alarming how second nature it had become. Prompto obeyed quickly, his face still claret colored across his cheeks, blanching his freckles into champaign constellations of stars across his cheeks and smattering his temples. 

Ignis wasn't sure what Noctis saw in him. Frankly, Ignis had been ruined for all other men since puberty had rebirthed Gladio into existence. Still, Prompto wasn't all that impressive. Usually pale with tired eyes, gangly and jumpy. _Annoying_. 

Below her. 

He supposed there might've been some cute quality about him, only adorable in the eyes of lonely teenage girls like herself. He looked unusually small sitting at the barstool, clothes hanging off of him in an exaggerated way, revealing the long contoured stripes of his clavicle. His aquamarine eyes were always jumping from place to place, too nervous, and his cracked lips were puckered around the thermometer between his lips. 

He supposed the flush on his cheeks was almost pretty, perhaps. 

Perhaps that was his Florence Nightingale talking. 

“Alright, let's see,” Ignis demanded, plucking the glass pipette from between the boy's pink lips and wiping the saliva off with a nearby kitchen towel. Prompto was staring at his hands. “98.7 degrees Fahrenheit. You'll live.” 

Prompto flushed again, nodding fervently, feeling another flush of shame to his stomach as he scrubbed his hand across the back of his mouth. He should tell Ignis. _Tell him what?_ No, he just wouldn't be so careless as to do it again when Ignis was around. That simple. “Thanks, Ignis.” 

“Anytime,” Ignis reminded with another kind smile Prompto felt as if he didn't deserve. Ignis’ lips didn't crack dryly the same way his did--they stayed smooth and glossy, almost a soft rosy blush tone with the stretch of the smile. Ignis was practically airbrushed, glowing even at ass-crack o’clock in the morning. Unfair. “Let's get something on your stomach, yes? I'm sure Noctis has saltines somewhere, if you can stomach those.” 

Prompto's stomach lurched with guilt. _Bad idea_. “Uh, I'm not sure I can, dude,” Prompto jumbled out, tripping on his words. “Maybe just let it, uh, rest, ya know? Give my intestines a second to chill.” 

Ignis quirked a silver eyebrow, arched high over the thick rim of his glasses. “If you think that's wise.” 

“I do,” Prompto spat quickly, giving a barely convincing grim, letting his bare forearms rest against the cool granite countertop for the first time, leaning forward animatedly. “Just need to cool off.” 

“Very well,” the older man sighed, stalking lazily to the stool opposite Prompto and plopping down, much to the boy's horror. So much for a moment to cool off. 

“Is this alright?” Ignis asked, watching Prompto with wary eyes. “I thought we might talk.” 

“Talk?” Prompto parroted stupidly, Ignis acknowledging him with a thin-lipped smile. 

It was all a conscious effort on Ignis’ part, if he were being honest--and he strove to always be candid, even if solely to himself, lest there be any Freudian mishaps to tend to. Ignis needed to make somewhat of a stronger effort to do more than simply tolerate Prompto, get to know him. Treating him like Noctis seemed like a good first step--and taking care of unruly children was, unfortunately, a skill set Ignis was all too familiar with. 

There was also a decent possibility that if Ignis actually took a liking to Prompto, Noctis would drop him faster than a hot cookie tin, just to spite him. 

“Yes,” Ignis murmured in restrained consciousness. “A talk about Noctis, if that's quite alright with you, of course.” 

Prompto blanched at Ignis as the older man lowered his gaze, meeting his own powerfully. _Ah_ , Prompto reasoned. _So that's the politician's gaze that scares the shit out of Noctis._ Rightfully so--something that held so much force shouldn't have been so tender and revealing. Ignis’ green eyes were positively bewitching. 

“Sure.” Prompto drummed his fingers absently across the granite surface, his fingernails making a soft _click click click_ that sent uncomfortable tremors down Ignis’ spine. 

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, eyes glancing purposefully between Prompto's annoying tick of nails and the boy's face, he began slowly. “You care about her Highness quite a lot, yes?” 

Prompto blinked stupidly-- _does he always have that bewildered look, or is really really that dull?_ Ignis blanched--nodding. “Uh, yeah. She's my best friend.” 

_Definitely dull._

Ignis swallowed, making a show of it, his adam's apple slinking beneath the pale column of his throat--which, as this hour of the morning, had chilling porcelain goosebumps and dusky shadow scruff beginning grow before his shave--and catching, bobbing lightly, Prompto's tired eyes following it all. He was aware there was a very pretty girl waiting for him in her bed, and Prompto was mostly excited about how warm her downy duvet felt over his skin.  
He needed sleep. 

Ignis chose his words carefully. “I,” a pause. “I was meaning more along the lines, hrm,” another pause, before beginning again: “Her Highness thinks of you as...more than a friend? Am I correct in that assumption?” 

Ignis was almost sorry he asked. 

Prompto lit up like a bottle rocket, the color flushing violently from his bare clavicle under his scrappy tee and racing up his neck to flood his face. His eyebrows blew up, flying into his hairline, and straightening in his seat so tall Ignis thought he might knock the chair over. 

“N-no!” he yelped, fingers scratching anxiously as his scalp, his flighty eyes suddenly very interested in the grain of the granite countertop, tapping his fingers again, this time at a violent pace that really made Ignis’ mind scream at how wrong the _click click click_ sounded off. “I mean--she's great, and I love her, and she's beautiful and all--but we're just, and I don't--I know anybody would be lucky to be with her, uh, it's just--” 

“Prompto--” 

“We're just friends,” he squeaked, one hand coming to cup over his mouth and chin, the other still clacking against the countertop before Ignis reached out to lay his own hand over the smaller boy's. 

He had to make an effort for Noctis, after all. 

“It's alright, Prompto,” Ignis smiled, patting the boy's hand softly to still his nerves. Prompto had frozen at the contact, but he'd let his sapphire eyes get low-lidded, and Ignis was watching him deflate against the countertop. Ah. The fatigue. “This isn't an investigation. No need to worry. I was simply unsure if your relationship had,” he paused, searching for the best word, before vomiting out the word, “progressed” which was not at all what he'd intended to say. It left the sour implication that that course of action was to come next, when it wasn't even plausible. 

Perhaps the boy was too tired to notice, his eyes staring inattentively at Ignis. 

“Are you feeling quite well? Are you sick again?” 

Prompto perked immediately, pulling his hand out from under the pile of Ignis’ to scrub violently at his eyes. “Uh, no, sorry, Igs. Really, I'm all better.” 

_Igs._

Ignis pursed his lips into a tight smile, nodding at the boy and leaning away on his side of the counter, before thinking better of it and offering him a better smile. _Pretend he's Noctis._ “I'm relieved to hear it. Don't hesitate in the future to let me know when you're feeling this way again? We'll take care of it.” 

Prompto flushed, rising from his stool, his bony arms wrapped around himself looking comically thin under his too-big tee. “Y-yeah. Sounds good.”

“Goodnight, Prompto.” 

“Night!” 

Prompto slept on the floor. 

\----

By the time Ignis had finished breakfast and gone to wake up the kids, he realized one had already made their great escape. 

Noctis was alone in her bedroom, Gladio's tank top still stretched across her thighs and her hair a violent hurricane around her porcelain face. For someone with such disgusting hygiene habits, Ignis reasoned, she ought to have at least some blemishes to deal with. Puberty hadn't been so kind to Ignis. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Ignis called, stepping into the room and throwing open the blinds. 

A muffled “fuck you” came out from the lavender pillow. 

“Duly noted.” 

“Why the fuck are you already dressed?” Noctis groaned, her eyes crusted with sleep and yesterday's eyeliner as she rolled to her side to squint at Ignis. “It's seven in the fucking morning.” 

Her arm comically slapped to the side, feeling around in the bed. “Where's Prompto?” she cried, continuing to throw her arms around, as if he might materialize in the bed at any moment. Ignis rolled his eyes theatrically, not that she noticed. 

“Come eat, Noctis.” 

She slumped into the kitchen, plopping down into the seat Prompto occupied last night, squinting down at her phone screen. 

“Prom had class,” she pouted, laying her head down beside the plate Ignis sat in front of her. Ignis was already at her side with a hairbrush, smoothing the tangles back to avoid them falling into her food. 

Ignis decided not to share about Prompto's episode last night. He'd tell Noctis if he wanted to. They kept little secrets between each other. 

“Perhaps the poor boy left because he was growing tired of your lazy seduction attempts.” 

Noctis didn't even have the decency to flush. “They might've been successful if dad didn't have you running virgin alarm.” 

Ah, so Gladio had spoken to her about his new title as well. No need to beat around the bush then. 

“Are you sleeping with him?” 

“Ignis!” Noctis gasped, before recovering with a snicker. “This is hardly a conversation to have before lunch.”

“I'm being serious, Noct,” Ignis sighed, watching her deflate a little guilty. The nickname always did it. 

“No, we aren't,” she admitted softly, shifting in her seat. “I just--we've been fooling around a little bit.” 

“I trust ‘fooling around’ isn't anything that will end up with you in the tabloids or pregnant?” Ignis asked, clearing the cooking utensils into the sink, avoiding Noctis’ eye. He couldn't believe he was giving her _the talk_ for the second time, but the talk pre-Prompto had been significantly different. 

“Because those are the two worst things that could happen to me, right?” she snorted bitterly, before adding. “No, Specs, it's not like that. I'm not dumb, okay? We're just kissin’. I know I've gotta--ya know.” 

_Stay a virgin_ hung unspoken between them, making Ignis’ heart pang bitterly in his chest, reminding him that someday, possibly soon, Noctis might be married off and shipped away to Six knows where--Insomnia would still be her’s when Regis died, but it didn't matter if she wasn't...well. 

If she were a boy, it'd all be different. Easier. The shackles of royalty would be a lot less suffocating. 

This conversation was embarrassing. 

“And Prompto--do you have...feelings?” 

“Six, Specs, it isn't like that, I told you,” she grumbled, stabbing at the food on her plate and shoveling it into her mouth gracelessly, dripping crumbs across her pretty marble chin. 

“You ought to tell Prompto it isn't like that,” Ignis warned, running the water low and delving his hands into the sink to scrub at the pans he'd used. 

“He should know, it was his idea,” she mumbled bitterly, chugging back the glass of juice he'd sat before her. 

_His idea_ \--

“Noctis,” Ignis began slowly, not turning to face her but turning off the tap nonetheless, a sudden chill creeping into his bones. “Did you--did you ask Prompto out?” 

When he was met with silence, he spun, watching Noctis stare lonely at her plate. 

“Um, no, Specs, he doesn't--he doesn't like me like that, okay? It's really chill. We just agreed to teach each other how to kiss okay?” she paused, pushing the plate away. “You aren't gonna tell my dad, are you?” 

She looked so small, too small to have so much on her thin shoulders, her twilight eyes glancing up at him shamefully under her tangle of curls. 

“No, Highness, I wouldn't do that,” Ignis promised, crossing the kitchen and fighting the urge to reach out and cup her cheeks, push her hair back from her face. Noctis had never taken to coddling, not from Ignis, anyway. “Do try and remember, though, that Prompto isn't like us. You couldn't...be with him, not even if you wanted. You know that, don't you?” 

She snorted bitterly. “Yeah. He said the same thing.” Playing with the collar of the tank top, she smiled, despite it not reaching her eyes. “He said he wasn't good enough--which is so dumb because he's so _good_? He's such a dumbass, he never gets anything I tell him. You all are morons, I hate boys,” she grumbled, pushing back from the bar top and padding back towards her bedroom. 

“Wait just a second, young lady,” Ignis called, and Noctis sighed, glancing over her shoulder to face him. It took less than three seconds for her hip to cock impatiently. A new record. 

“What?” she grumbled, squinting moodily. _No arcade tonight._

“Do I want to know why you're wearing Gladiolus’ shirt?” he asked, stalking forward so that he leaned over her empirically. 

She didn't miss a beat, furrowing her brows believably. “This isn't Gladio's shirt.” 

“It smells distinctly of chocolate axe.” 

“He leant it to me during training last week,” she amended. 

“What happened to _your_ shirt?” 

“I can't say,” she giggled, her mood a sudden and violent shift of the tide again. Ignis bit down on a sigh. “It's a state secret.” 

“ _Noctis_.” 

“Yeesh, Specs, if you keep gabbing I'm gonna be late for my tutor!”

It's only later, when they're in the regalia, Ignis driving with Noct’s head on his shoulder--a far lean with her seatbelt on--that she brings it up again, so quite Ignis think she must be asleep. 

“Prompto really is a good friend, Iggy.” 

“I know, Princess.” 

“It isn't fair that he doesn't get to go to stupid stuffy parties with us. I have to hang out with you--and you're boring.”

“I'm well aware.” 

“And Gladio works.” 

“Indeed.” 

“I just, hnng,” she huffed angrily, the curls Ignis arranged around her face that morning already in limp disarray. “I just wish I could have him forever, you know?” 

The glaives at the gate let them into the citadel’s parking garage, and Ignis gives them a stiff wave before it clicks with him, a violent shock to his system, a soft grin coming to his lips. 

“Perhaps you can.”


	2. You're So Ambitious For a Juvenile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gladio has a potty mouth, Ignis has Hot Topic PTSD, Noctis has crippling depression, and Prompto is a twink who listens to way too much Nicki Minaj.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I ended up working in some soft Gladnoct...this should be the last exposition chapter.

Noctis’ history lesson, taking place in the princess’ old quarters of the citadel with a private tutor her Highness liked to refer to as _professor asshat_ , freed up about two hours from Ignis’ schedule that afternoon. There was a file of reports on his desk that were calling him for a head start--perhaps even meaning a decent night's sleep--but, he unfortunately had some business to attend to in the training rooms. 

Gladiolus. 

He's already down when Ignis arrives, the two of them matching in grey joggers and nondescript sneakers--Ignis in a citadel issue grey workout tee, and Gladio in a black tank top that looked all too familiar. 

His dark hair was slicked back, sliding down to his temples as he tore a training dummy limb from limb, and Ignis noticed he'd either forgotten to shave or--Six help them--decided he'd look more debonair with a thatch of dark scruff growing on his cheeks. His cheeks and ears were pink with the effort of the hand to hand simulation, but smiled and paused his exercise when he saw Ignis approach. 

“Yo,” he called, plucking his ear buds from his ears and holding up a hand, clearly meaning for a high five. 

Ignis kept his hand on his hip. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Ignis said smoothly, cocking his hip again in a way that caused Gladio to quirk up an eyebrow. 

“Six, Iggy, if you're gonna yell at me, can I at least sit down and grab a water? I'm dying here.” 

“Is there something I should be yelling at you about?” Ignis called as Gladio _flumped_ backward against the blue mats beneath their feet, throwing a muscled arm across his eyes. 

“What do you want, buddy?” 

Ignis folded himself down beside Gladio, crisscrossing his legs so that their knees brushed. Ignis didn't consider himself to have many friends--but Gladio, he trusted. He had to trust him. “Noctis has been rather out of sorts lately?” 

Gladio sat up immediately, his chocolate eyes wide with concern, pink mouth pursed. _That certainly got his attention._

“She okay?” Gladio asked, thick eyebrows furrowing low over his searching eyes, his face oddly close in proximity to Ignis’ to be considered appropriate. Ignis was glad it was still warm enough outside for the Glaives to avoid training indoors. 

He sighed. “I was hoping you might know,” Ignis admitted, his green gaze sliding to where their knees bumped. “She's gone practically catatonic...except when she's with that friend of hers.” 

“Prompto,” Gladio supplied with a half-sincere grimace, an involuntary scrunch of his mouth like he'd tasted something sour in the air. 

“Indeed. She mentioned this morning she'd like to bring him along to some palace events. What with the harvest ball coming up, I'm afraid she'll broach the subject more seriously.”

“Regis isn't gonna let that little twink into the palace.” 

Ignis blinked, almost comically behind his glasses, but elected not to comment on Gladio's word choice. 

“Do you think Noctis has...feelings for Prompto?” 

Gladio's eyes lit up in an amused way, eyebrows skyrocketing into his slick hair. 

“Uh, no,” he chuckled airily. “Trust me. Noct has better taste than to fawn over that jailbait.” 

“You're sure?” 

“Yes. Call it a shield's intuition.” He smirked.

Ignis saw the opening. “That intuition doesn't have anything to do with Noctis wearing your shirt to bed last night, does it?”

Gladio's lips twisted into a smug grin, eyes lighting up behind his thick eyelashes. “She's sleeping in my shirt?” 

“Is there something I need to speak with you about, Gladiolus?” Ignis reiterated, staring hard behind his glasses and watching as Gladio's face fell into a horrified expression. 

“Dude--you know I would never--” 

“You'd better not,” Ignis grunted. 

“I _wouldn't_. She's an angel,” he made a face, twisting his mouth in disgust. “And, she's like, twelve.” 

“She's eighteen,” Ignis sighed, rising from his crouch to begin to stretch. This conversation was becoming highly uncomfortable for as frequent as it was becoming. “Don't pretend you haven't noticed.” 

“Nothing to notice under those potato sacks you dress her in.” 

“She dresses herself,” Ignis reminded with a sigh. “Trust me, if I had anything to do with her appearance, she'd look like a proper princess.” 

“She looks like a dude,” Gladio grunted in agreement, startling Ignis by placing a hand on his lower back. “Hold the stretch here.” 

“Don't be mean, Gladiolus, and don't encourage her either. No more lending clothes--I mean it. I'd like to know what happened to her top.” 

“‘S in her locker, stop yapping,” Gladio groaned, pushing on Ignis’ ass till the advisor toppled face first with a start. “They should change your title to idiot keeper.” 

Ignis kicked out, aiming for Gladio's ankle, but the shield was quick to get out of reach. Ignis rolled to a sitting position. “Make it plural. Lately I'm looking after both of them,” Ignis sighed, watching Gladio's expression turn a little stoic, if not melancholy, wondering what it meant. “I'm worried for Noct. What it will mean for her when Prompto's gone. What it will mean for her mood.” 

Gladio snorted mirthlessly, pushing his curling hair away from his sweat-slicked temple with a thick hand. “She'd be fucking bedridden if she left, in love with him or not.” 

“Don't stretch quite so far, Gladiolus,” the word _love_ ringing ambiently in Ignis’ ears. That wasn't an issue he wanted to deal with. “What can we do? It's not as if he'd have a position on the council reserved for him--at least, I surely hope Noctis wouldn't stoop so low.” 

Ignis scolded himself again, mentally, for equating Prompto with the word _low_. 

Well. It wasn't as if it wasn't true. 

“Have him join the crownsguard,” Gladio called over his shoulder, reaching for a thin sword off the rack to offer it to Ignis. 

Ignis blinked for a long moment at it, as if unsure what to do. The sleepless night was starting to get to his brain. He needed some coffee, and soon. 

“Join the crownsguard,” he reiterated dumbly, staring at Gladio's thick fist wrapped around the blade instead of his face. 

“I'm telling you this because you're my best friend,” Gladio sighed with an eyeroll. “But for a smart guy, you're really fucking stupid sometimes. Yes. Join the crownsguard. Then he and Noct are joined at the hip, bffs five-ever and all that dumb shit, and when she gets bored of him she can dump him on guard duty. Easy plan.” 

Ignis couldn't help the bubbling laughter that rumbled out of his chest, staring at his friend with incredulous green eyes. “Prompto? On the crownsguard? Gladio, he can barely walk in a straight line--” 

“So we get him off the pot.” 

“Noctis is doing _pot?_ ” Ignis yelped, Gladio's hand slapping over his mouth. Ignis waited a full three seconds before sinking his teeth into Gladio's palm. 

“Ouch! Don't be a dick!” 

“Trust me, I don't enjoy the taste your skin on the back of my teeth,” Ignis groaned, wiping at the back of his mouth furiously with a gloved hand. 

“You weren't complaining in highschool when I had you--Hey, Princess! How was class?” 

Gladio's face had morphed from a salacious grin to one of more adoration, grinning at the Princess as she ambled into the gym with her books tucked under her arm. 

She wasn't smiling, her pale face practically grey, looking entirely too small in her jeans and black sweater, boots scraping on the blue mats. She pursed her lips, nodding in acknowledgment. “Hey, nerds.” 

“Hey yourself,” Gladio grinned, reaching out to ruffle her hair, ruining the curls Ignis had spent half the morning on. She'd be sparring soon anyway, so he wondered why he'd even wasted his time. “Go get changed, kiddo, then run some warm up laps. Iggy said you had a long night, so we'll play it easy today. Sound good?” 

She nodded, sulking off in the direction of the changing rooms. 

“Holy shit, Iggy,” Gladio breathed. “You weren't joking. That's like a 3.8 on the depression richter scale.” 

“Any suggestions?” Ignis sighed, fiddling with a curved dagger between his leather-clad palms. 

Gladio pursed his lips. “Prompto and chocolate. Both if you can manage.” 

Ignis shot him a withering look. “They wouldn't give him an entrance exam, Gladio, have you seen him? Even if he were to pass it--which would take an obscene amount of studying, mind you--he doesn't have the social skills to be placed on the royal retinue. The Marshall would have him standing guard at the palace gates with his current resume.” 

“So teach him, moron.” 

Ignis blinked. “I'm sorry? Me? This was your idea--” 

“You're the smart one,” Gladio reasoned. “And I'll help him pass his physicals, but it's not like I'm one for social graces--and Noct couldn't care less about etiquette. It has to be you, Iggy.” 

Gladio nudged him softly, buffing his shoulder on his way to the locker room. “You've got to do it for her. I'll put in a word with Cor, but do it for her. Please.” 

Ignis sighed heavily. This was absolute torture. Hours upon hours alone with Prompto? Having to explain concepts to that oblivious, brainless boy? Ignis would be better off teaching a block of wood. Not to mention how jumpy and awkward the boy was. 

This was going to be abysmal. 

“Oh bloody--” 

“Specs! Watch your mouth, young man!” Noctis called, stalking across the training room in her mesh shorts and a sweatshirt that _clearly_ didn't belong to her, the hem near her knees. Ignis shot Gladio another glare. 

He mouthed a quick _sorry_ , accompanied by a not-so-sorry shrug of his shoulders. 

Noctis grinned as Gladio pulled her up into a tight hug, causing her to make a disgusted face, pushing at his shoulders as he scratched her cheek with his beard. 

“Ugh! Get that dead animal on your face away from me--Gladio!” But she was giggling, and Ignis watched the two of them, sort of unsure what was happening between Gladio's obscene grin pressed against the column of her throat and the pinks at the tips of her ears.

He used to be so good at reading people. Now, not so much. 

“Oh, Gladiolus,” Ignis called with little tact as Noctis balanced herself precariously on the strong muscle of her shield's shoulder. “I forgot to ask--how was your hot date last night? I hadn't heard from you, so I assumed it went well?” 

Noctis paled, immediately clambering off his shoulders and muttered something about starting her laps before darting away. 

“Dude,” Gladio said softly, an interjection. 

“Don't encourage her,” Ignis murmured softly, cuffing his friend on the shoulder with a limp fist. “You and I both know it would end poorly.” 

“Yeah. Right. ‘Course.” 

“Do speak to the Marshall on behalf of the boy?”

“Already on it.” 

\----

“ _No-oct,_ c’mon! Get outta bed, lazy bones!” 

The Princess huffed in response, turning to glare at her friend from where she was facedown on the mattress. Prompto, on the other hand, had stripped himself of his muddy converse (dripping an ever growing stain on the carpet, which Specs was just going to be thrilled about), and was currently bouncing up and down on the foot of the bed, grinning like a wild man. He'd just gotten out of class--the normal kind, from the Uni in the middle of Insomnia, the one Noctis wasn't allowed to go to--and was bouncing up and down on the bed, displacing Noctis with every bump. 

“I'm tired,” she grumped, pulling a pink pillow from the pile and chucking it at Prompto’s thin legs. He was dressed like an art school snob again today, to Noctis’ sweatpants and sports bra. The outside October weather kept the sky grey, making the lethargy creep into her bones. 

It was hard to even think about sleep, when Prompto decided it would be a good idea to wear a mustard yellow cable knit sweater and khaki skinny jeans. He looked like a fucking highlighter. Noctis had told him so about three times. 

“Are you saying I _light up your world_?” 

“Go the fuck away.” 

“Nope,” he squeaked, flopping onto his back. “C’mon, can't you sleep at the arcade or the mall? I'm bored dude. It's not fun unless you're there.”

“Specs has a ton of files for me to look over tonight,” she grumbled, reaching out to trace the soft skin of Prompto's inner forearm, grumbling loudly when he pulled it away, cradling the arm to his chest. “Don't you have homework?” 

He pouted, cracked, pink lips jutting out prettily as he batted his eyelashes at her. “Yeah, but I've been in a chair all day. I'm too jumpy to focus.” 

“Poor baby,” Noctis moaned, rolling onto her back. A year ago, Prompto would've actively had to try to avoid eyeing her chest. He was wiser, however, to realize she was flat as a board. “Gladio had me run five laps today. Five laps! That's like--half a mile!” 

Prompto snorted, but decided not to mention he'd done twice that this morning before class. No need to call attention. “Humor me? C’mon,” he whined, sapphire eyes sparkling with mischief, pushing the dark curls out of her eyes and pulling her to a sitting position. “Dance party! C’mon! I've got _the Pinkprint_ downloaded on my phone.” 

Noctis couldn't help it--Prompto's smile was contagious. “Two songs and then we do work.” 

“Alright! Thata girl!”

\----

_“Get on your knees, get on your knees, get on your knees.”_

Ignis wasn't surprised to see Prompto's school bag on the kitchen table, the little canvas bag all too familiar in its placement, adorned with chibi trinkets and anime buttons acquired on Hot Topic trips--for which Ignis had been present too many times. Uncomfortable didn't begin to describe watching her highness and friend scamper around a blackened, heavy-metal blaring store, watching Noctis fiddle with chokers and Prompto jokingly hold up embarrassing lingerie to himself while the purple-haired cashier asked Ignis what he was wearing under his suspenders. 

_“Say pretty please, say pretty please, say pretty please.”_

He liked to wait outside with Gladiolus from that point on. 

_“I'll be back at 11, you just act like a peasant.”_

What was surprising, however, was Ignis stepping into the apartment, utterly unaware that there was some sort of debauchery performing going on in Noctis’ bedroom. With the door closed. How perfect. He didn't recognize the artist's music blaring under the gap in the door, but he wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors did. It wasn't anything Ignis recalled buying her. 

_“Got a bow on my panties because my ass is a present.”_

Ignis blinked, nearly dropping the grocery bags on the floor as he ran across the living room. He certainly hadn't bought her _that_. 

“Highness!” Ignis called, jiggling the doorknob, finding it locked. “Open the door this instant!” 

Sudden silence, the beat ending abruptly as if someone had fumbled for the off, accompanied by a muffled, “Oh shit, it's Specs!” and a curse word Ignis didn't care to repeat. 

“Noctis!” 

The door swung open, and Ignis found himself staring down at the Princess. Very flushed. In her bra. Prompto on the bed, looking terrified, clutching his phone much too closely to his chest. 

“Noctis,” he sighed in admonishment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We talked about this.” 

“Specs, we weren't--” 

“It was just a study break, Ignis,” Prompto called from his spot on the bed, his own face flushed prettily in a way that made Ignis recall their previous late night, and the way Prompto's eyes had seemed too big and too wide in a childlike way behind his glasses--

The sleep depravity was definitely catching up to Ignis. 

“Honest, buddy,” Prompto promised, holding up a textbook entitled _Film Critic and Analysis_ as if to prove his point. 

Ignis was surprised to believe him. 

He sighed, nonetheless, but offered the two of them a tired smile as he reached out to smooth away one of the twilight tangles of Noctis’ hair. “Prompto, do try to keep her highness on the straight and narrow? And perhaps help her acquire a cleaner taste in music. They're going to be asking for opinion on the things for the Harvest Gala now that she's of age.” 

Noctis let out a heavy whine, slumping to the floor by Ignis’ feet. “Ugh, isn't there anyway to get out of that?” 

Ignis smiled sadly, offering his hand out for her to take, but she simply held fast to it and stayed seated on the floor, her head resting on his outer thigh. 

“Apologies, Highness, but you are in season now. You must attend at some point.” 

“That's worse,” she grumbled. “A bunch of grown ass white dudes slobbering all over me--can't I bring Prompto as my date or something to protect me? I'm eighteen now, I should get a say!” 

Ignis bit his lip, glancing up to gauge Prompto's reaction, surprised to find the other boy smiling sadly. 

“C’mon, Noct, you know they don't let tramps like me into the palace. You're better off with Gladio, trust me,” he sighed with a self deprecating smile. 

Noctis frowned against the shiny fabric of Ignis’ pant leg. “There's seriously no strings you can pull, Specs, short of asking my dad?” 

Biting back on a smile, Ignis shimmied his personal phone from his work pocket, pulling up the last screen he'd viewed. 

“If I tell you this,” Ignis said in feigned nonchalance, tapping away on his phone and trying to ignore the way Prompto's face lit up like sunshine with his smile. “You have to promise me you'll clean this disgusting room.” 

“ _Specs_ ,” Noctis gasped as Ignis held out the phone. 

**From: dat hot guy/ur only friend  
** **2:11 pm  
_Cor says if the twink cn handle himfself at the gala, he'll give him an exam 4 the cg_**

“Twink?” the blonde grumbled. 

“Who--” 

“Gladio put in a good word with the Marshall,” he paused before adding, “and, yes, he added his own contact to my phone.” 

“The...the crownsguard?” Prompto asked, leaning over Noct's shoulder with wide eyes. “Like, skull and crossbones, protect the Princess or die trying crownsguard? With big scary swords? That crownsguard?” 

Ignis blinked. “If you don't feel as if you're up to the task--” 

“No!” Prompto yelped, nearly seizing Ignis’ own phone from between his leather-clad fingers before thinking better of it. “I mean--you really think I'm cut out for the crownsguard?” 

Ignis could be nice. Smile and nod, give him the confidence boost he needed. Or Ignis could be honest. 

“You want my opinion?” Ignis asked. 

“If Cor thinks he's good enough--” Noctis interjected, silenced by a nudge from her friend, who was looking at Ignis so ardently it felt almost intrusive. 

“Honestly? Cor is doing this because Gladio put himself out on a limb for Prompto--on behalf of you, Noct--and I'm not sure Prompto's...mannerisms are up to snuff. You,” Ignis grunted, nudging the Princess with his shoe. “Get a pass for being loud and messy. He won't.” 

“What can I do?” Prompto asked, eyebrows curved almost hopelessly despite his determined expression. 

Ignis sighed. “Gladio suggested I give you etiquette lessons.” 

The color drained from their faces. 

“Prompto,” Noctis whispered. “I love you, but you don't have to put yourself through that, buddy.” 

“Oh, bloody--I won't kill him, Noctis,” Ignis whined, but Prompto was already nodding his head, eyes determined as he rose to meet Ignis at the door. 

“Yeah,” Prompto said meekly, before a firmer, “Y-yeah. When do we start?” 

Ignis frowned--he hadn't thought the freckled menace would actually say yes--but behind his sunshine frame was Noctis, smiling genuinely for the first time in ages. “After supper, if you're feeling up to it.” 

“Prom's staying for dinner!” Noctis whooped. 

Prompto smiled, surprising Ignis by reaching between them and seizing the older man's hand, shaking it firmly, holding on for a just a moment too long. “It's a date.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we'll get some real Promnis next chapter! Thanks so much for staying to the end. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and have a fantastic day ♡


	3. But If You're So Smart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignis is a milf, Gladio is the c o o l e s t, Noctis is very smol, and everyone is just as confused about Prompto's sexuality as he is.

Prompto split without warning after dinner, something about not feeling too well and needing to be home to meet his parents, leaving Ignis with a pile of half-empty plates and a bewildered expression. 

“Well, that was rude,” Ignis said clearly, Noctis as his only audience, not that she was paying attention anyway. She was tapping out something on her phone in lieu of sliding the food around on her plate, looking significantly disheartened. 

“He does that a lot,” she sighed absently, glaring at the blue light of her phone screen with squinted eyes. “I think he's like, lactose intolerant or something. He's not trying to piss your off.” 

“Hmm,” Ignis acknowledged, scrapping most of Prompto's uneaten dinner into the trash bin, replaying in his head the way Prompto's skin had gone pink again, just like the night before. His freckles had blanched in the same way, and this time he'd seen his pupils shrink in his sapphire irises, as if panicked. With his back to Noctis, he penciled in his journal _see Insomnia State Health Facility for P’s medical records and set up appointments for sudden illness(?)_

“Well,” Ignis sighed loudly, spinning on his heel and offering a forced smile--his eyes felt tired, as if his whole face drooped, begging for him to close his eyes and take a moment to rest. “It appears it's just you and I tonight, Princess. What would you like to do?”

“Gladio's almost here,” she said without missing a beat, thumbs tapping across her phone screen rapidly, her dinner entirely abandoned now. “Texted a few minutes ago and said he'd pulled into the lot. Oh--and Prom says he's real sorry about running out. ‘Wasn't feeling well’ per the norm,” she rolled her eyes, causing a pang of sudden discomfort to stab Ignis in the chest. 

Something about that situation wasn't right. 

But, there were more pressing matters at hand. 

“Gladio, eh?” Ignis said with feigned nonchalance, leaning against the countertop of Noct’s kitchen with a cocked hip--he'd long since shed his blazer and tie, opting instead to have the top few buttons of his silver dress shirt undone, sleeves rolled up. Noctis had called it his _milf look_ on more than one cursed occasion--but Ignis wasn't going to let that stop him from making some attempt to relax. Undoing his collar seemed like the only way to release some of the pressure in his head. “You two have been awfully chummy lately. I'll admit I'm starting to feel a bit left out.” 

Noct's surprised eyes shooting up behind the curtain of her bangs was endearing, along with the soft ‘o’ of her button mouth as she rambled out apologies to him. He had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing. As utterly time consuming as his job was, as draining and as humbled he felt, he knew he wouldn't change this for anything, not for the world. 

Being with Noctis? That was everything. Even if it meant killer headaches and all nighters and weird sex talks at seven am. Even if it meant giving that little friend of hers a crash course etiquette lessons over the next several weeks. 

“Specs, you know you're great buddy--I really appreciate you, you know? You're my closest friend. I love--” 

“Hey, asswipes! I brought some shit beer, hope you're game, Mama Bear.” 

Even if it meant tolerating a very drunk Gladiolus at unholy hours of the night. 

“Well,” Noct said in a deadpan, her lips pursed and eyebrows drawn down angrily. “That explains the dick pics.”

“The _what_?” Ignis screeched, spinning to where Gladio was dropping his leather jacket over Noct’s shoulders (Ignis was suddenly very thankful he'd made her put on a shirt for dinner, even if it was just a ratty pajama top) and clicking down a case of very suspicious looking beer onto the table. 

“Relaaax,” Gladio hiccuped, letting himself fall into Prompto's previously occupied seat next to Noctis, his face resting in his hand comically with tired eyes. “I meant to send her a meme, and I accidentally send her, ya know--” 

“Know what?” Ignis seethed, surprised to find the block of knives had suddenly misplaced itself from the counter. 

“The wrong _file_ ,” Gladio hiccuped again, glancing at Ignis with his pink cheeks and low-lidded eyes that sent him flashing back moments of their teenage years he'd rather forget. Maybe not. 

Gladio grinned at him salaciously, eyebrows waggling as if he could read Ignis mind. “You're looking awful milfy tonight, Iggy.”

Gladio was always good for that, at least. 

“You have an entire file of previously taken dick pics?” Noctis said, her twilight eyes vaguely awestruck as she gazed into the void of the kitchenette, causing Ignis to lean over the marble countertop and smack Gladio over the head. 

“Gotta have a file in case you can't perform in the heat of the moment--ouch!”

“You're lucky you're using your personal phone,” Ignis growled, smacking him again. “And the key to her Highness’ apartment is for emergencies only, Gladiolus.” 

“I'm her bodyguard?” 

“You're drunk, is what you are,” Ignis groaned. “Noctis, do give me your phone so I can dispose of that monstrosity, please.”

“The deed is done,” she sighed, throwing her hands up exaggeratedly, leaning away from Gladio. 

“Where's the twink?” Gladio mumbled, running his thick hands through his undercut tiredly, glancing at Noct with dark eyes. She groaned. 

“Will you stop calling him that? It's mean.” 

Gladio grinned, his smile cutting across his face like a knife. “Just calls em as I sees em. Open a beer, Igs, loosen up. I brought em for you.” 

“I don't think so,” Ignis sighed, before turning back to Noctis, a tired glare behind his glasses reading _Yeah, I know, he's a moron_. “Noct, would you mind terribly to ask Prompto when he'd like to reschedule our lesson? The Harvest Gala is in a few weeks, and we need to start work as soon as possible--and I'm afraid I don't have his number.” 

Lie number one: Ignis absolutely had his number, but he only had it from digging around online and reading their text messages to each other. 

Best to not get caught in that web. 

“Sure thing, Specs.” 

“I'm gonna go piss while you losers talk about boring shit,” Gladio announced, stalking off toward the hall bath, which Ignis had recently scrubbed top to bottom--Prompto hadn't left a mess, and Ignis knew full well if he hadn't heard Prompto the other night, there would have been no trace he'd been sick at all--the idea of germs left Ignis a bit itchy. 

“He's so annoying,” Noctis grumbled, scrubbing at her eye absently and smearing mascara across the apple of her pale cheek. 

Ignis saw the opening, and took it. 

“Noctis,” Ignis tried for nonchalance, his back to the Princess as he uncapped the beer and began to pour it down the drain. “Has,” a pause, rethinking his words. “Does Prompto have a girlfriend?” 

Noctis snorted, causing Ignis to turn in shock as she shook with laughter. Clearly, he was missing something. 

The word _twink_ buzzed around in his skull like a swarm of hornets, stinging over and over again. He'd looked it up--it meant exactly what he thought, urban dictionary providing the colorful definition of: _an attractive, boyish-looking, young gay man. The stereotypical twink is 18-22, slender with little or no body hair, often blonde, dresses in club wear even at 10:00 AM, and is not particularly intelligent._

As in, _that kid Prompto you're going to be spending hours upon hours with is a twink_

“Yeah, no. You think he'd be spending hours here everyday if he did?” Noct snorted, shoving a hand through her unruly hair. 

“I suppose not,” Ignis reasoned, before continuing. “No boyfriend, then, either?” 

The way Noctis was staring at him made Ignis feel very exposed, to say the least, the way her silvery eyebrows rocketed in her hair, her twilight eyes going wide. “Uh,” she swallowed. “No? Prom’s not gay--oh, you're talking about the Gladio thing? Gladio's just mean, Specs, ignore him.”

She grinned, then in a more conspiratory grin added, “I think he's just jealous that Prompto was my first kiss, and he's the one I play all my video games with now.” 

Ignis nodded woodenly, glad the conversation had turned. For a moment he had been worried Noctis might've accused him of--

Well, nevermind that. 

Gladio came back in, his fly down, shockingly, falling into his seat beside Noctis again. “Sorry ‘bout the photo.” 

Noctis just shrugged, typing something out on her phone. “No sweat.” 

Gladio smiled softly then, reaching out to tentatively tuck a stray strand of hair behind Noctis’ ear.

“Your makeup looks real pretty.” 

Noct blinked. “Uh, thanks? It's leftover from two days ago--Prom did it for me and I never got around to scrubbing it off. 

“Oh,” Gladio sighed. His hand hadn't moved from where it cupped the back of her head. 

Ignis wasn't sure if he should give them privacy or kick Gladio out. 

In the end, not so difficult a choice.

\----

It took both Ignis and Noct to help Gladio into the guest room of Noctis’ apartment after their gentle giant had knocked back two more beers, proposed to Ignis (twice), and called one of the Glaives just to loudly sing Whitney Houston into their voicemail box. 

“‘M sorry I always call that little kid a twink,” Gladio slurred to Noctis as Ignis pulled the blankets up over him. “He's cool. You have cool friends, Noct.” 

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly trying her best to bite back on the laughter. 

“I'm just--I'm just the coolest, you know? I want you to think I'm the coolest. Do you think I'm the coolest?” 

“I dunno, Gladio--” 

“Noct,” Ignis warned, attempting to tilt Gladio's head to side, lest he die choking on his own puke--which was such a Gladio thing to do, Ignis had to admit. 

“Iggy told me you were sleeping in my shirt,” Gladio grinned, his words beginning to blur together. “That's cool. You're cool, Noct.”

“Yes, everyone is very chilly, goodnight, Gladiolus, try and get some rest,” Ignis sighed, dragging Noct by the wrist out of the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Do try and make sure he doesn't die?” Ignis sighed, shooting her an apologetic glance. 

Ignis was surprised to find Noct’s face a little pink, nodding adamantly into the darkened hallway. “Course.”

“I know it's should be the other way around--” 

“It's fine, Iggy. I have those case files to look at anyway, right?” she smiled, albeit a little forced. 

Ignis bit down on the urge to ask her when she'd become so grown up. 

He merely placed his hand on her lower back, escorting her back to room, reminding her to bring Gladio some water and saltines, and to be careful. 

“He isn't in his right mind. If he comes near you--” 

“I'll warp across the room and shove a mixing whisk up his ass, I got it, I got it.” 

Ignis blinked. “I was going to say don't hesitate to call me, but that works as well. Please see that you don't harm my kitchen ware too thoroughly? I'm rather fond of it.” 

She grinned, suddenly alerted by the buzzing of her phone in her pocket, squinting down at the screen with a pout as Ignis replaced his jacket on his shoulders. Noctis was still sporting Gladio's, the leather ridiculously large on her, as if she were playing dress up. 

“Something wrong?” Ignis asked, as Noctis stared down at her phone screen. 

“Huh? Oh, no, just--Prom says he's ready whenever you are for the first lesson, just to let him know in advance.” 

There's a voice in the back of Ignis’ skull--a warning, soft, kinder than he is, telling him _don't do what you're thinking. Go home and start on your work for tomorrow._

But Noctis is looking at him with those hopeful twilight eyes, and she'd been smiling just moments ago. Transportation ordinances could wait until the morning. Sleep could wait until the next night. 

Noctis was his job. 

Against all his better judgement-- 

“Ask Prompto if now works.” 

His watch read seven forty-eight. Perhaps that was too late, and a sign that this whole thing was foolish. Perhaps Prompto had changed his mind, and that was why he had ran out on dinner. 

“Prom says now is good.”

Ignis nodded, reaching for the Regalia’s keys, and pausing before swiping the case of beers from Noct’s kitchen bar (“So you don't get any ideas”), and asking, “Be so kind as to send me the address, will you? I'll be by tomorrow morning to pick you up. Call me if Gladio proves to be an issue.” 

When he turned back, Noctis was standing in the middle of her apartment, her hair a mess and her clothes too big, looking much too small for her whole existence. She smiled sadly. 

Ignis was leaving her alone. Again. 

“I'll see you tomorrow, Specs.” 

_This is for her. I'm doing this for her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I lied about there being Promnis in this chapter, I just didn't want to make this chapter too long and not give the boy's enough time on their first *cough*date*cough*/lesson. 
> 
> This is officially, 100% the last of the exposition. 
> 
> Next chapter is all the boys, all the time, working on Prompto's great art of body language and trying on some tuxes *wink* 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading to the end! As always, kudos and comments are very appreciated, and I hope you have a wonderful day!


	4. Tell Me, Why Are You Still So Afraid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignis teaches Prompto about body language, Gladio communicates telepathically with Iggy, and Prompto makes an offer Ignis isn't sure he wants to refused. 
> 
> Yeah, he's totally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some Promnis for you guys! I wanted so say a big thank you to everyone whose left all the sweet comments and kudos on this story, as well as those of you've who've messaged me on tumblr (you can find me @thicchocobobutt). I'm really have a lot of fun writing this, so thanks for all the feedback and support! ♡ 
> 
> Here's some pining Ignis for your poor souls :)
> 
> (Tw: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of purging)

Prompto should've said no. 

He was currently staring at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if he should actually style his hair or wear a backwards baseball cap to avoid looking like a total slob. 

The digital clock on his bedside table read 7:57. Ignis would be here any minute. 

Posing in the mirror was less than helpful--cringe worthy, more than anything, and he felt the panic rising in his chest as he reached for his previously discarded back jeans, shimmying them on over his boxers. Another glance in the mirror. 

Oh, who the fuck wore a baseball cap at eight at night? 

Prompto was trying to weigh the options, all while reminding himself it was just Ignis. That was somehow more terrifying. 

It wasn't like Ignis didn't know Prompto was a slob. He'd seen Prompto sans hair, sans makeup, bare-faced and baggy-eyed and nearly haggard. He knew that Prompto wasn't a super model. 

Still, Prompto felt nearly naked staring at himself in the mirror like this, trying to look at himself the way he imagined Ignis looked at him. 

Tiny. An ant. A fucking clumsy ant. A very clumsy, very unworthy ant who had the social skill set of a chihuahua. Prompto sighed. 

He still wasn't sure how to explain his quick flee from Noct's apartment--hopefully Ignis would be kind enough to realize something was up and not mention it again. Prompto half didn't understand why he'd fled himself--he'd been getting...not necessarily better, but routine, and he hadn't felt a compulsion like that in a long time. 

He usually only purged after he binged. He'd fled Noct's apartment after just a few bites, riding the bus back to his place and dry heaving in his own bathroom for a solid fifteen minutes until the backs of his teeth felt sensitive. 

He'd brushed them three times since then. 

Still, he'd washed up, cleaned the makeup off his face and brushed the product out of his hair, pulled back with a few silver clips his mom had gotten him for his birthday. He'd been in his pajamas and in bed when Noctis had decided it was relevant to tell him _Ignis fucking Scientia_ was on his way over to _Prompto's_ house. 

Prom was thankful, for once, for the fact that his home was, more often than not, a ghost town. Nearly spotless, rarely dirty, and barely lived in meant there was nothing for Ignis to side eye in disdain other than Prompto. 

Prompto was scrubbing at his freckles in the mirror, clawing at his face roughly as if he could rub the imperfections and red blotches away, trying to decide what top to change into when the telltale sounds of knocking filtered in through house. 

If Prompto's stomach weren't empty, it would've been soon. 

\----

The GPS cut out for Ignis with four minutes to spare till he arrived. Frowning, he pulled a map from the glove compartment of the Regalia, squinting in the dim light, incredulous to the fact that whoever had made the software for this device had failed to map this residential area. 

He wasn't sure he could blame them. 

It was a long ride to Prompto's--usually you could get across Insomnia in thirty minutes or so, but the drive to Prompto's took almost twice as long as the sleek sky-rise architecture gave way to small, square stucco homes, in a way that was designed to be uniform, but instead left it looking like a highschool locker room for all its diversity. 

The houses were done up in fading pastels, the stucco cracked on most, with dusty white mailboxes with rusted red flags, names painted on in curling lavender handwriting. Some had little wagons out front, children's tricycles and deflated soccer balls left by the edge of dilapidated road--Ignis had half a mind to bring up the state of this area of town to the council. Almost none of them had a car out front, but when they did, it was aesthetically ancient, icy blue with obliterated bumpers. 

Prompto's house wasn't an exception--the driveway was gravel, making Ignis wince as he pulled the Regalia into place, quickly swiping off his headlights. Fall was upon them, now, and the dim lighting provided little to be able to view Prompto's home. 

Unlike the others, the yard was barren. There was no scrawling script reading _The Argentums_ on the mailbox. There were a few overgrown rose bushes in the landscaping, shedding crushed pink petals onto the cracked sidewalk, and Ignis was careful to avoid them in his sleek black loafers. No lawn ornaments, no car in the driveway, no carved pumpkins on the porch. Just a yellow, stucco home from another decade that had seen better days. 

Something about the sunshine yellow of the house made Ignis smile, laughing a bit into the rim of his travel mug, thinking of Prompto tonight at dinner with his shock of sunbeam hair and that godawful mustard yellow sweater that kept falling off his shoulder. 

Thinking about him in terms of Noctis had been working. Pretending he was just like Noctis, just another kid to look after, made it easier. 

It didn't mean his stomach wasn't in knots.

This flash decision had been a mistake, he knew. No lesson plan drawn up, and no clue how to relate to Prompto outside their shared interest (re: Noct), this night had the ability to be an absolute awkward disaster zone. 

Regardless, Ignis pulled his gloves taut across his hands, letting the leather strap snap against his skin comfortably, and allowing himself a moment to breathe deeply. _It's only Prompto_. 

Gathering the contents of his passengers seat into his arms without a second thought, he made a march toward the door. He'd only been standing on the porch for less than a minute when the door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud _fwump_ , revealing a twitchy, red faced Prompto, scratching absently at his arm, looking at the chamberlain sheepishly through his eyelashes and offering Ignis a meek, “Hey.” 

If Ignis had been in his right mind, he would've realized Prompto was projecting a cocktail of nervous and embarrassed emotions. Ignis should've rationalized that it could've come from a variety of things: the fact he left dinner in such a rush, the fact perhaps he thought Ignis had never been to a house like this, or maybe even that he still felt awkward about the way Ignis had buffed his nose with the tip of the thermometer last night, like a child. Ignis was paid to read people for a living, he should've been able to tell, he should've known. 

Ignis short-circuited.

For all his training, all the hard wiring in his brain fizzled out glancing at Prompto, gangly and red-faced, his eyes particularly puffy. Bathed in the orange light of his foyer, he was wearing his skinny jeans from earlier tonight and goddamn Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, faded and vintage, as if he'd bought it from a thrift shop eons ago, and it was a little too small for him, riding up on his hips, catching across his chest. 

Ignis shouldn't have finished the last swig of Gladio's beer. Ignis should've slept three nights ago. Ignis shouldn't be at Prompto's parents house, standing on the porch gawking at him like some crazy pervert; yet here he was. 

“Um,” Prompto cleared his throat, snapping Ignis from his gawking, feeling his own cheeks heat up. “You wanna come in?” 

“Quite, thank you,” Ignis choked, waltzing in gracefully, watching Prompto curl in on himself again. 

_You're taken aback because he looks like a twink,_ a voice in his head, that sounded an awful lot like Gladio, reminded him, sending a new wave of heat to Ignis’ cheeks. _It's only natural for you to be excited. Then you wouldn't be the only one with a preference for men in the room._

Had he been better rested, less buzzed, he might've smothered the thoughts quicker, but instead he just sat dazed as Prompto buzzed around the foyer, darting into the small kitchenette to offer Ignis a drink. 

“Are you okay?” Prompto asked slowly, after Ignis didn't reply. “You brought beer.” 

Ignis flushed, realizing that, indeed, the case from his front seat was dangling from his gloved hands. “Oh. So I have. Apologies.” 

“If this is a bad time--” 

“Of course not,” Ignis reasoned, holding a paper bag out to Prompto. “Those are donuts. I figured you might be hungry, since you didn't eat much at dinner.” 

Prompto's face fell, letting Ignis hold out the bag for a few moments longer than polite, before taking it from him with hesitant hands and sitting them on the stove top far from himself. “Oh. That's--that was nice. You didn't have to do that. Thanks.” 

Ignis smiled, feeling himself go back to normal just a minute, watching Prompto go stoic. “No trouble. I'm unsure how your parents would feel about the alcohol, but if you wouldn't mind to put it in the fridge? I'd like to keep it away from the Princess and her shield.” 

“You all were drinking tonight?” Prompto asked with a smile that Ignis, now almost fully operational again, realized wasn't entirely genuine. It's an _I missed a party. No, I left a party. No, a party started because I left_ emotion fleeting behind his eyes, and Ignis recognized it's haunting reflection from gazes Noctis used to throw down her nose. 

“Gladio brought some by just after you left. I thought I might dispose of it before her highness got any ideas,” Ignis chuckled, wincing only slightly at the fact he'd given Prompto alcohol.

There it was again: the fist tapping against his skull, _twink twink twink_.

“Probably for the best,” Prompto snorted, taking a quick swig of water from a green tinted glass, eyeing the floor nervously. 

He looked oddly out of place in this small house, Ignis reasoned, too still and too stoic and nothing at all like the Prompto who'd been bouncing off the walls of her highness’ apartment just hours before. 

Prompto couldn't help but reason the same thing about Ignis--standing on his shitty linoleum tile floor in his expensive loafers, looking around with a wrinkled expression. He looked nice, tonight, however. He'd shed his sports jacket, opting instead to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing a little black chain around his throat that Prompto had never noticed before. It looked expensive. It was a little distracting. 

Another reminder that Prompto was less than, not equal to. 

“I don't tell you enough,” Ignis said suddenly, his green gaze soft behind his expression, causing Prompto's breath to catch in his throat. “But I appreciate you being such a good influence on Noctis. I'm not sure she would've made it through highschool without you.” 

Ignis was giving him that politician's smile again, the one that makes him freeze, because something about it seems so genuine even when Prompto is very fucking aware that it's _not_. 

“No trouble,” he blushed, raking a hand through his hair, cursing internally at how it felt sort of greasy under his hand. “It wasn't like she didn't help me out, too--I mean--!” 

He spluttered with a red face, lunging forward again with his hands as if to keep Ignis from running, as if Ignis could do anything but stare at the countertop red faced at the insinuation that Noct had given Prompto a _hand_. 

“I just meant I didn't have many friends, you know? In school. She was my first, uh…” Prompto's voice died out, his whole face flushed, searching for the words before he shut his pink mouth. 

Ignis smiled kindly, then, different from the knowing politician's smile. It was softer, almost genuine. 

He smiled at Noctis like that. 

“Let's start the lesson, shall we?” 

Prompto pursed his lips, nodding, leading Ignis to a small rounded table in his kitchen, pulling out a chair for Ignis in a way that made Ignis smile in approval as Prompto plopped graceless into the seat next to him, flicking his hair out of his eyes and worrying at his lower lip with straight, white teeth. 

“Very good, Prompto,” Ignis praised, watching how Prompto subconsciously shifted to sit a little taller in his seat, smiling a little. “Now the goal of the Harvest Gala is going to be a test of your ability to simply fit in and please these elites, alright? No fighting yet, no crownsguard exam knowledge, simply social etiquette.” 

Prompto whined, sinking into his seat again. “Dude, I'm fucked.”

Ignis smiled in understanding again, chuckling under his breath, and caught Prompto's eyes dart to him in an unsure sort of way. The lighting in Prompto's kitchen was low, warm, almost like candle light, and it dyed Ignis’ skin a soft caramel color, the angles of his face casting shadows across his skin. 

“Surely you don't doubt my ability to assist you that much? Keep in mind, I do wrangle Noctis on a daily basis.” 

Prompto snorted mirthlessly at that, his mouth quirking bitterly at the corner. “Yeah, I guess I am a bit easier to wrastle.” 

Ignis let that mental image fly out of his mind before it took root in his subconscious and metastasized itself in his late night thoughts. 

“Have a little faith,” Ignis said, fighting to keep control over himself, fighting the urge to rub at his temples in irritation. “I figured we might start with the bedrock of body language, if that's quite alright with you?” 

Prompto blinked owlishly. “Body language?” 

“Yes; more important than you might believe. Keeping your conversation partner intrigued and pleased relies heavily on the fact that you look interested.” 

Prompto nodded, eyes skirting to the side, still worrying at his lip. 

“Stop that,” Ignis commanded, causing the smaller boy to stare with wide eyes until Ignis reached out to tap his wrist, pulling at the green sweatband there in a sign to get him to stop biting at his lip. “Now, easy enough. Don't shrink, open yourself up to me.” 

Ignis regretted the words the second they escaped his mouth, the sirens in his brain blaring at an alarming decimal, Gladio's voice in his head shouting _twink! Twink! Twink!_ as Prompto shifted in his seat to face Ignis, pale arms peeking out from the shoved up grey hoodie sleeves draped at his side. 

“Good,” Ignis coughed, mirroring Prompto by facing him entirely, letting his own hands fall into his lap. “Let's keep your feet facing me, away from the exit, if you please. Arms at your sides are excellent, you're doing wonderfully. Face me, full frontal--” a blush on Ignis part, goodness, he needed sleep, “Raise your eyebrows, keep your expression open, and--Prompto,” a pause. “Eyes on _me_ if you please.” 

It was awkward. Fuck, it was more than awkward, meeting Ignis’ forest green eyes, fighting not to look away from them. Ignis looked as if he could actually read Prompto's damn mind--and Prompto wouldn't be surprised if he could, if his thoughts were a scrolling headline bar across his forehead, hidden behind a stray lock of blonde hair. Still, he felt deathly still and more vulnerable than he had in ages. Less than, unworthy, not good enough--

“Prompto,” Ignis crooned, and Prompto zoomed out his vision enough to see that Ignis was smiling softly. “Relax.” 

“Right, right. Shit, sorry--” 

Ignis winced. “Perhaps body language is a bit advanced for right now? Let's work on small talk. Are you any good with that?” 

Prompto chuckled self deprecatingly. “I'm total shit at it.”

Ignis frowned. “Perhaps less swearing?” 

“Shi--er, sorry, Igs.” 

There it was, the nickname again. Ignis cleared his throat, willing the pounding of his skull to go away. “The key to making good conversation is sticking to asking the subject about themselves--usually, they'll be able to go off on some tangent. People will be interested in you if they think you're interested in them.” 

“Won't that make me seem a little desperate?” Prompto whined, squirming in his seat. He'd already recrossed his arms, scratching at the band on his wrist. 

Ignis smiled knowingly. “Principles of interest only apply to amorous relationships, I believe, but keen observation skills nonetheless. Now, do you mind if we do a little role-playing?” 

Prompto blinked again. Ignis almost imagined there was a flush at his hairline, creeping up under the stretched grey collar of his hoodie. “Role playing?”

“Yes. Let's see if we can make small talk? Try and get me talking about myself.”

Prompto blanched. 

“No need to be nervous,” Ignis reminded. “No judgement for your body language, either. I'm not asking you to look at me.” 

Prompto nodded, lowering his head to his chest but not moving from his position fully facing Ignis. 

“Whenever you're ready--unless you'd like me to start?”

“Please.” 

“Alright,” Ignis smiled. “How are you feeling this evening, Prompto?” 

“Fine,” he replied too quickly. “How are--” 

“Are you quite certain? You left dinner in quite a hurry. Not sick again, were you?” 

Prompto blanched. “No--I just, I thought my parents would be home--” 

“They aren't here,” Ignis smiled, waiting for Prompto to respond, before realizing the boy had shut down. Shoot. Back track. “Keep me entertained, Prompto, make me believe you and I share interests.” 

Prompto's head snapped up immediately, sapphire eyes glowing despite his red, puffed eyelids. “Noctis hasn't been feeling well.” 

That got Ignis’ attention. “She hasn't?” 

Prompto shook his head. “No, uh--I don't wanna share anything she wouldn't want me to share.” 

Ignis frowned. “I appreciate your loyalty, Prompto, but I insist you tell me something. I'm charged with looking after her, you know.” 

“I know,” Prompto sighed. “Don't tell her I told you? She's been feeling...I dunno. She's been avoiding feeling, I think. Doesn't talk much anymore, trying to be distracting…” 

“Distracting?” 

Prom flushed again. “She only ever wants to...you know, kiss and stuff.” 

Just like that, the word beating against Ignis’ skull deflated, falling limp and dead at the base of his neck. _Twink_ had shattered into pieces, replaced by the dull anxious hum of _kissing and stuff_. Ignis had to place a hand to his head to quite all the chatter--

“How long have you been having the headaches?” 

Ignis froze, glancing at Prompto, who suddenly seemed to have no issue making eye contact with Ignis, staring in concern. “Pardon?” 

“They're headaches, right? I used to get em real bad. You've been making that face for a few days now, I just thought….” 

Ignis let his hand drop. He'd succeeded in small talk, alright, despite being a little unorthodox in his approach. 

“Nothing a decent night's sleep won't fix, I believe.” 

Prompto blinked. “Ignis, it's nine, if you need to go home--” 

“I promise I'm quite alright, Prompto,” Ignis sighed, feeling the noise in his skull rise a few decimals. Unsettled for several reasons, the height of which was the fact that Prompto could read Ignis like a book--which meant everyone else could as well. 

“I've got some medicine--”

“I said I'm alright.” 

He wished he hadn't said it, watching Prompto fold in on himself again and glance to the side, pushing his sleeves a little further up his biceps. 

There's an awkward pause of silence where Ignis almost considered apologizing, before Prompto replied, “If...if it happens again, lemme know, okay? I've got some tricks I've learned to handle them.” 

Ignis frowned. “It's quite alright, Prompto. I hardly think it's appropriate--” 

“What? C’mon, Igster, we're friends,” Prompto full on grinned now, rising from his seat. Lesson over, Ignis supposed, frowning that it was his own damn fault. 

Wait, _Igster?_

Ignis frowned. “No, Prompto, we aren't.”

Prompto blinked, before furrowing his brows and stating with a little more force, “Yes, we are. I'm not just Noct's friend, you know, and I know she can be a little self absorbed and hard to talk to, but I'm your friend too, buddy. If you called at two am crying, I'd totally answer! If I was awake, anyway.” 

“It's hardly as if we go out for coffee, Prompto.” 

“We could,” Prompto said in a soft froze, petrifying the soles of Ignis’ shoes to the carpet. 

“I hardly think it's appropriate. I'm only Noctis’ staff, after all,” Ignis said slowly, the sirens going off again at a dizzying volume. 

Prompto frowned. “You know she thinks you're more than that, pal.” 

_Pal. Buddy. Igster._

_Twink._

“Be that as it were--” 

“Consider it?” Prompto begged, reaching out to punch Ignis’ shoulder lightly, realizing, yeah, that damn shirt is as soft as it looks. “You're helping me with all this etiquette garbage that I don't know the first thing about and--I feel guilty. I wanna help you, too, you know? If there's anything I'm good at, it's chilling out and relaxing--I think that's teachable.”

Ignis’ head swam, thoughts racing at light speeds impossible to track. The words tasted too tacky in his mouth, and when he looked up, there was Prompto again, with that smattering constellation of freckles and those wide, red-rimmed sapphire eyes, and then Prompto's hand was on his shoulder again and the only coherent thought in the advisor's mind was _oh, Astrals, no_. 

This was all Gladio's bloody fault. 

“I appreciate the offer, Prompto,” Ignis said slowly, his head still pounding. “But I'm afraid I have to decline--it's late, I should be off anyway. Give my regards to your parents?” 

Prompto was chewing at this lip again, rocking back on the heels of his sock clad feet. He looked cute. He looked too bloody young for Ignis to feel heat creeping up his collar. 

“They won't be home tonight,” he said sheepishly, and Ignis felt his whole body get hot as he reminded himself _that wasn't a bloody invitation!_

“Nevertheless,” Ignis smiled amicably, nodding at him in thanks. “You did very well tonight, Prompto, I'm very impressed. I think we can get things down to pat before the Gala. I hope you won't mind the loss of free time?” 

“Just friends hangin’ out,” Prompto said a little too forcefully. 

“Right,” Ignis nodded, schooling his expression to neutral. “I trust I'll see you tomorrow? The four of us have some schematics of the gala to attend to.” 

Prompto swallowed nervously. “At the Citadel?” 

_Had he always been this endearing?_

“At the mall,” Ignis chuckled. “Nothing too advanced just yet. I'll see you then?” 

“See ya,” Prompto said, despite walking with Ignis to the door, buffing his shoulder again with a limp fist in lieu of something more personal, like a hug, which probably would've left Ignis an absolute puddle on the porch. 

It took Ignis nearly thirty seconds of sitting in the Regalia, staring straight ahead, trying to figure out what had changed so drastically in the course of an hour that made him feel this nauseous. 

Prompto was still leaning against the door jamb when Ignis pulled out, and Prompto waved to the car till it was out of sight. 

Ignis pulled over at the first available parking spot, let his head slump against the wheel, trying to find some clarity to the situation now that Prompto wasn't so damn close. What was that? 

There it was: Gladio's voice again. 

_You've got a crush on the twink._

No, no, no, that was absolutely not happening. The boy was nineteen--Ignis was on staff at the Citadel--he was Noctis’ friend for Shiva’s sake, if it were to end badly-- 

Astrals, he's already thinking of an end. 

“Breathe, Ignis, think this through,” he murmured against the steering wheel. “There's a logical explanation for this feeling. What is it?” 

_You've got a crush on Prompto Argentum._

The whine Ignis let out against the leather palm of his glove was absolutely pitiful. Oh, Six, he was so _fucked_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is fuuccckkkeddd lol. 
> 
> Next chapter will be the tux fittings for the Gala ft some awkward Prompto and some soft Gladnoct.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading to the end! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Hope you all have a great week, until I see you again ♡♡♡


	5. Where's the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignis dreams of something he shouldn't, Noctis tries her best, Gladio realizes he fucked up big time, and Prompto decides maybe being a twink might be a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I just wanted to say thanks again; the comments last chapter, both here and on my tumblr, were just so sweet. I'm so blown away! It honestly makes my day to hear that you guys actually look forward to and enjoy this fic! 
> 
> This is an early update for Prompto's birthday! Since this fic takes place in October, there will be a fun birthday chapter coming up for our sweet boy. 
> 
> As a heads up, this chapter just bumped this fic up to an E rating (a mild E (for now ;)), so if any of you are uncomfy, this is a warning to turn back. 
> 
> (Tw: swearing, mentions of sex, lots of talk about Gladio's peen)

Prompto began to materialize in Ignis’ dreams. 

Somehow, it wasn't surprising. Ignis didn't mean for it to happen--both the sleep and the unconscious hazy image of his Princess’ best friend--yet here he was in his Citadel chambers, head buried in his pillow, willing away the thoughts of the smaller blonde boy.   
His subconscious was disgustingly thorough with the details--the way his pink lips cracked in the middle when he smiled too wide, the soft skin stretching with the effort, and the soft blush around his eyes, the way they always looked a little misty, to those silly red barrettes in his hair tonight clipping back his bangs to reveal the angled dip of his temples. 

It made Ignis want to go into the kitchen and smash his face against the granite countertop there until he couldn't remember his own name. 

This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. Surely Ignis didn't actually have feelings for _Prompto_ , did he? The same Prompto who wore a skirt to high school for a solid week during homecoming? The same Prompto who spent every weekend unconscious and very smelly on her highness’ sofa? 

The same Prompto who Noctis confirmed was definitely, very not gay, not at all, not even a little bit? 

This was all Gladio's bloody fault, Ignis knew, for giving Ignis’ inner teenage boy that nasty, despicable word to chew on. 

He wasn't even going to say it. 

Okay, what the hell, so what if Prompto did look like a twink? So what? It doesn't mean he'd be into men. It doesn't mean he'd be into Ignis. 

When Ignis closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep, all he found himself thinking about where the blanched constellation of freckles dotting across Prompto's cheeks atop his pretty, flushed skin. 

“You haven't slept in days, go to bed!” he growled to himself, scrubbing at his eyes. 

It had been eons since he'd had a crush. 

He'd been fifteen; and it had been Gladiolus. He still can't really fault himself for that one, because everyone fell for Gladio at some point. Just _look_ at him--he wasn't nearly as much of an asshole when he liked you back, either. 

They'd had a brief stint of experimentation late in high school, spurned on by the fact Gladio saw Ignis pining miles away. In the end, they decided it was best to stay friends--Ignis also suspected that men just weren't a preference for Gladio, but he wouldn't hold it against him. 

Gladio had been Ignis’ first, real life gay scare--which turned out not to be a scare, but a full fledged epidemic. 

Gladio was the only one that knew, of course. He couldn't tell Noctis. There was no way to bring it up, and he half suspected she really didn't care what--or who--Ignis did in his free time. 

_She'd care if it was Prompto._

There was that matter as well--the fact that Prompto was Noct's best friend. 

That complicated things. Quite a bit. 

His phone on the bedside table seemed to be screaming for him, begging him to read Noct's texts, to see if Prompto had talked about tonight at all. Half of his rationale was to see if Prompto had noticed his odd behavior--the other half of him wanted to know maybe Prompto might feel similarly. Ignis still felt the warmth of the boy's lithe hand on his shoulder through the thin silk of his dress shirt. 

This was wrong--so, so wrong. He shouldn't do it. 

He grabbed the phone. 

\----

“C’mon kiddo, lemme out.” 

The doorknob rattled again by Noct's head, startling her awake from where she'd found herself dozing, slumped against the locked door the guest room. The words on the file Ignis had left--the agenda proposals for the next council meeting--had begun to blur together. That shard of guilt she always felt wedged between her lungs dug itself in a little deeper as she sat the file to the side, scrubbing at her eyes, her hands coming away dark with old black eyeliner and glitter. 

She didn't want to disappoint Ignis. 

She was just so damn tired. 

“Noct, I'm not jokin’ around. Unlock the damn door.” 

Ah. So Gladio had woken up. 

“I left crackers and water on the bedside table,” she called, biting back on a snicker that was working it's way through her yawn. 

“‘S not what I meant,” Gladio grunted from the other side of the door. He'd ceased his knocking upon realizing Noctis was leaning against the damn thing. A concussion was the last thing she needed. “Please? Wanna talk to you.” 

She blinked. The picture. 

It wasn't…terrible, as dick pics went, she guessed. She'd never seen, ya know, a real one or anything. Prompto wouldn't even send her a picture, let alone look in the real world. It had taken a small army (or the threat of one, anyway) to convince him that she wouldn't laugh when he took his shirt off.   
Gladio was different for about ninety different reasons and Noctis could think of a million more why it was a bad idea to save it.   
She saved it anyway. 

She could always use it for blackmail, she supposed. A quick, “wouldn't it be just awful if this got taped up one million times around the training room?” would get her out of laps for a year. 

Not that half of the glaives probably hadn't seen it before. 

Still it was...nice, if she were honest. Classy. And keeping meant she wouldn't have to keep erasing her shady search history to avoid Ignis giving her another talk. 

It was Gladio--his face included, like some sort of stupid fourteen year old who didn't know any better, or worse, didn't care--standing in front of his bathroom mirror. His hair was brushed back into a stunted ponytail at the back of his head, grinning salaciously at his own reflection. It was an older one, his face bare of any scruff on his cheeks, skin pale and unblemished, oddly hairless. She'd seen him shirtless before; what she'd never seen was the sharp v off his hip bones, the way his thick thighs flared out almost like a woman's, the sinewy details of his muscles visible even through the black and white filter. One hand holding his phone, the other on his-- 

Noct almost cropped it.

Instead she canceled out of the photo, opting instead to scroll back to her home page. Nearly midnight. Shit. 

“We're talking,” Noct said cheekily, despite her voice being a little hoarse. Being a nineteen year old girl was fucking miserable. 

A heavy sigh sounded behind the door. “Please? This bed is too fucking small anyway. Wanna sleep on the couch.”

The lack of noun in the last sentence had Noctis’ face boiling red. She stood, grabbing her file and unlocking the door, but headed immediately down the hallway back to her room. 

“Noct--” Gladio called. 

“It's really late, Gladio--” 

But then his hand was on her wrist, trying to tug her back to him, his other hand on her shoulder and suddenly all Noctis could think about was the way his hand had curled around his-- 

It startled even her when she suddenly found herself smashed against the wall, head spinning as she fell to the floor. Fuck. 

“Did you just fucking _warp_ to get away from me?” he screeched, immediately at her side, before pulling his hands away. Still kneeling above her, he licked his lips. “If you don't want me to touch you--” 

“It's fine,” she said too quickly, her pale face heating up in a way that let Gladio know immediately what was going on. He frowned, reaching forward to probe at her temple. 

“You're gonna have a goose egg on your forehead the size of a softball,” he admonished, smoothing her hair back out of her face. “Ignis is gonna kill me.” 

“Not your fault,” she mumbled, her little berry colored mouth turning down in a pout. Gladio smiled sadly. 

“‘M supposed to be watching you. Not the other way around.”

She grinned, then, despite the headache. “Iggy said the same thing.” 

“Not surprised,” Gladio snorted. “Alright, arms up. ‘M puttin’ you to bed, missy.” 

“I can walk,” she grumbled, beginning to push herself to her elbows, but Gladio's dark arms were already sliding under her shoulder blades and the backs of her knees, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, despite her protests. She was desperately aware she really didn't look the best right now, not with her tangled, unbrushed hair and days old, smudged makeup. She'd changed into a pair of yoga pants Ignis had bought her and a top that was clearly too big to be her’s, although she didn't think it was Gladio's. 

She didn't feel like a girl--not in the same way that she was consistently, overwhelmingly aware that Gladio was a man. 

The walk to her bedroom wasn't long, but it didn't stop her from burying her too-warm face in the nape of Gladio's neck, letting her arms slide around his shoulders. Stupid fucking human space heater. She could still smell the sting of beer on him, making her wrinkle her nose a bit, but there was also a faint lingering of his cologne that made her nuzzle a bit closer, ignoring the throbbing behind her eyes. 

“Head hurtin’ bad?” Gladio said softly, careful not to startle her as he jostled her to one arm as he pulled back her sheets, before lying her back down and pulling the downy comforter to cover her. 

“I think I'll live,” she grumbled. “Besides, if you're gonna carry me everywhere for the rest of my life, I won't need any of the brain cells I just demolished.” 

Gladio arched an eyebrow, allowing himself to perch at the end of her bed. “Rest of your life, huh?” 

“I'm your Princess, aren't I?” she grinned, something in her twilight eyes twinkling that Gladio couldn't name. “You can't say no.”

Gladio should've stopped it--should've put her in her place. Ignis would want him to. If Ignis thought Noct might have any sort of feelings for him, he needed to put a stop to it right now. 

But she's right. He can't say no to her. He doesn't want to. 

“Guess you're right,” he grinned, fingering across a little purple flower embroidered on her bedspread, probably near her ankle. He can't tell under all the fluff. When he chances a glance up, she's smiling so widely, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of his chest. How long has it been she's smiled like that? 

“Hey,” he said suddenly, despite himself. “How's a free day sound tomorrow? Ignis wanted us all to run to the mall to get our fittings done, but we can take a day off training, if you'd like.” 

That blistering smile is still on her face. “That'd be...cool.” 

“Thought so.” 

“But, uh,” she sighed, sitting up again--there's already a dark bruise forming under her eyes. Ignis is going to murder him. The harvest ball is in two weeks and she's going to go with two black eyes. “I've got some files to look over. I promised Iggy.” 

Gladio frowned. “Can't they wait?” 

She shrugged. “Don't really need another lecture about how I'm not doing my best work, ya know?” 

“Don't let it stress you out, babe.”

Gladio immediately cursed. That wasn't supposed to come out. To her credit, Noct didn't even flinch, just scrubbed at her cool arms. His eyes caught every frame of motion as the collar of her shirt fell over her shoulder, revealing a smooth, pale shoulder, a few beauty marks peppering across it. 

“I don't want to disappoint you guys.” 

His heart stopped for a beat, then two. 

“Princess,” he began slowly. “Tell me you haven't been upset because you felt like we were going to be angry at you.” 

She shook her head. “Not angry, just...look, you probably wouldn't even say anything to face if I tried, but I can tell, you know? I'm not trying hard enough. I'm nineteen now--” 

“You've got a lot of time to learn, kiddo.” 

“Dad's sick, Gladio,” she whispered, voice suddenly wet. “I'm not...I’m not stupid, okay?”

“Is that why you've been feeling upset?” Gladio half dared to scoot up the bed, just a few inches, before he saw Noct freeze, drawing back against her headboard. 

“I'm not _upset_.” 

“Ignis just thought--” 

“I said I'm not.”

“Okay,” Gladio said softly, leaping off the bed as he'd been burned. “Okay. That's fine. Just...I'm here for you, alright? We both are.”   
She nodded, laying back without meeting his eyes, sliding under her duvet again, the white lace covering her chin. Clicking the light out, the room barely illuminated with the soft orange glow filtering in from the hall, Gladio found himself walking back toward her bed. 

She tensed up when he carded a hand over her hair, suddenly kneeling beside the bed, his face dangerously close to hers. “We love you, Princess. I'm not going anywhere.” 

When she pulled back, he yanked his hand away before she could warp across the room again and add another bruise to her collection. 

“Noct,” he began slowly. “I...I am sorry about the picture. I didn't mean to send it, I meant to send it out to another girl--” 

“It's fine,” she said too quickly again, rolling over so that her back was to him. Shit. He hadn't checked for a concussion or any back injury. Ignis was gonna fuck him, and not in the fun way. 

“Princess,” he begged softly, reaching out to cup her clothed shoulder with his big hand. “Please--” 

“Close the door when you leave. It's cold.” 

Well. Alright then. 

Noct and Gladio hadn't always been close. They hadn't even always been friends, but the past year or so had been great. Something had flipped. 

Gladio couldn't help but feel like he fucked it all up again. 

Regardless, he'd made her uncomfortable enough for one night. So uncomfortable she'd given herself two black eyes just trying to get away from him. He'd sent an unwanted nude, probably more than illegal, to the Princess of Lucis, and lost her trust. 

Yeah, he wasn't gonna hurt her again. 

“Goodnight.” 

Setting up a small bed on the couch, clicking off the lights until the apartment was dark, save for moonlight filtering in through the thin, gauzy blinds. He was starting to get it, now that he knew Noctis wasn't a total fucking brat. He got why Ignis felt like he was responsible for her happiness. 

Fuck, Gladio wanted to be the reason she smiled again. 

\----  
 **From: i am the nightlight**  
 **To: sunshine boi**  
 **1:03 am**  
 _you are not gonna believe this absolute bullshit_

 **From: i am the nightlight**  
 **To: sunshine boi**  
 **1:04 am**   
_prom wake up this is serious shit_

 

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:05 am**   
_wanna see a nude_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:05 am**   
_NO_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:05 am**   
_do u rlly want Ignis 2 cut off my [eggplant emoji]_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:07 am**   
_oh shit i forgot_

**From: i am the nightlight**  
 **To: sunshine boi**  
 **1:08 am**  
 _how was specs did he kill you_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:08 am**   
_do you still have all your fingers_

**From: i am the nightlight**  
 **To: sunshine boi**  
 **1:08 am**  
 _or did he really cut off your [eggplant emoji]_

 

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:10 am**   
_no he wuz a perfect gentleman. no talk of [eggplant emoji]s or any other vegetable_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:11 am**   
_damn. i was hoping he'd feed you his vegetables until there none left for me._

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:12 am**   
_is that a sex joke or r we rlly talking about veggies_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:13 am**   
_why do you want it to be a sex joke lmao_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:13 am**   
_NO_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:13 am**   
_iggy is like ur mom I can't fuq ur mom noct_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:14 am**   
_im gonna go ahead and pretend you didn't say that_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:15 am**   
_and we're gonna talk about me now_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:15 am**   
_was specs weird tonight? he was weird tonight before he left to see you_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:17 am**   
_weird lyk he didn't want to c me?_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:18 am**   
_weird like asking me if you had a boyfriend weird_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:19 am**   
_he thinks im GAY?? [crying emoji]_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:19 am**   
_now hold on partner. I think we can use this to our advantage._

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:20 am**   
_i already h8 this noct_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:22 am**   
_if we tell Ignis youre gay that means you arent into me right? Poof no more virgin alarm hounding us every Saturday night. Just me, you, and your mouth buddy._

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:23 am**   
_and my xbox but she can take a backseat to us making out_

 

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:25 am**   
_noct...I luv u buddy but this is an awful idea….im not even sure i wanna keep sneaking around._

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:27 am**   
_like. no more kissing at all?_

 

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:27 am**   
_ya. i just dont want that 2 b all we do u no,?_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:28 am**   
_r u mad?_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:36 am**   
_nah. its cool. i get it._

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:36 am**   
_u sure?_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:38 am**   
_its not that you arent good or i dont lyk it or anything lyk tht. its good. i jusr wanna b ur friend 1st_

 

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:40 am**   
_we can still do ur plan tho. itd b nice 2 have a night alone._

 

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:45 am**   
_i said i get it it's cool_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:46 am**   
_it wasn't much fun since we couldn't do anymore than kiss anyway_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:50 am**   
_so, operation fool specs into thinking you like peen is go?_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:51 am**   
_this is already a disaster_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:52 am**   
_You're the best prom ♡_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:53 am**   
_i h8 u_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:53 am**   
_you love me_

 

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:57 am**   
_ya, probably_

**From: i am the nightlight**   
**To: sunshine boi**   
**1:58 am**   
_oh btw. [1 attachment]_

**From: sunshine boi**   
**To: i am the nightlight**   
**1:57 am**   
_WTF NOCT. MY EYES._

**From: i am the nightlight**  
 **To: sunshine boi**  
 **1:58 am**  
 _[eggplant emoji][eggplant emoji][eggplant emoji]_  
\----

Ignis should've stayed asleep. Squinting at his phone light at the dark, reading through these conversations, he wasn't quite sure what was the most alarming. 

Prompto was right. This was going to be a disaster. Ignis was already rolling out of bed, making a quick run for the shower. Another sleepless night, then. 

He had to deal with Gladio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,,I lied about this chapter being the tux fittings. That will FOR SURE be next chapter. I don't like to go over 5k words per chapter, so I split them up. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Have a lovely week until I see you again!


	6. What's the Hurry About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gladio gets a phone number, Noctis gets a dress, Prompto gets a lollipop, and Ignis gets a date and a bit more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the tux fitting! It didn't turn out quite as expected, but I hope you like it nonetheless ♡ 
> 
> Thanks again for all the absolutely sweet comments here and on my tumblr (@thicchocobo) It means so much to me, you have no clue. Enjoy ♡

Perhaps it was for the best that he didn't kill Gladiolus. 

That's not to say he didn't deserve it; in a perfect world, Ignis would currently watching the life drain out of the shield's eyes--post castration, of course--instead of bending over a grant request for new furniture for the University's library (which received an immediate _no_ from Ignis. If you're going to pretend to be a bloody private institution, cut down on the administrative bubble instead of begging the state for money. Leeches.) 

It was four am, and Ignis had decided he'd best get to his office and start the day there, rather than end up in Insomnia’s penitentiary at night for slaughtering the Princess’ shield. What a mess that would be. 

He assumed Noctis would've been less than pleased to wake up to see Ignis and Gladio wrestling on the couch (regardless of whatever her search history suggested), and then he'd have to explain how he knew. Granted, Noctis had told him about the picture--but she'd also said she deleted it. Was Ignis sincerely not expected to read her text messages when she lied to his face?

Raising a girl was bloody awful. 

Regardless, his workload had been doubled with the preparations for the Harvest Gala being made--and now that he'd be spending his evenings with Prompto, any hope of relaxing (or sleep) flew out the window. It only made sense he be awake before the sun rose to get a head start on his work. Noctis wouldn't be awake to start preparations until the late morning, anyhow. Gladio usually was more adept at waking her up than Ignis (two guesses why). 

**From: dat hot guy/ur only friend**  
 **10:47 am**   
_meet u @ the mall 11:30?_

Ignis frowned at his phone screen. That dirty, perverse, son of a--

 **From: The Milf**  
 **10:48 am**   
_I will be there._

 **From: dat hot guy/ur only friend**  
 **10:48 am**   
_ill pick up the twink ;)_

Oh, Ignis was going to strangle him. 

\----

The mall wasn't particularly crowded, but none the less populated that he was forced to give Gladio a forced smile as he waltzed toward him at an even pace. 

The larger man had clearly gone home to change--today it was jeans, a faded blue made to look as if he'd been wearing them for forty years instead of the fact he'd bought them last week upwards of one hundred dollars, a pair of scuffed working boots he often wore camping, and a ribbed red tank top. Honestly, a mess.

Even if the red brought out his eyes, and even if Gladio knew that Ignis liked him in red (or had, when they'd been an...item, for lack of a better word). 

It didn't mean Ignis wasn't going to tear him to pieces. 

He was leaning against a store front, his reflection shining boastfully in the shiny marbled floor at his feet, pooling around him like a mirrored surface of water. Ignis made sure to step on the looking glass Gladio's face. 

“You look like shit, Mommy,” Gladio grinned, holding out a hand for Ignis to take--probably asking for one of those aptly named ‘bro hugs’ that jostled Ignis’ vertebrae when Gladio slapped him too hard on the back. “But I gotta say, I do love it when you dress all casual. Reminds me of a better time.” 

Ignis narrowed his eyes. Gladio was in an awfully good mood to be faux flirting with him. 

“How was your date with the twink last night? Did he, ya know?” Gladio licked his lips, before popping them in a lewdly wet noise. 

Ah. 

Ignis pressed his glasses up his nose. “I am going to give you until the count of five to give me a good reason not to cut off your bollocks right here.” 

Gladio blanched immediately. “Oh. Oh shit, you're mad.” 

“Five.” 

“Shit, Iggy, people are around, I can't just run--” 

“Four.”

Gladio's fists bunched in his hair, shrinking against the wall. “What did I do? Is it the twink thing--I'll stop, I swear--”

“Three.” 

“Ignis, dead serious buddy, Noct is across the hall at the arcade and if she sees you kill me she's gonna be real upset.” 

“As upset as she was last night about that monstrous pornography you sent her?” Ignis hissed, bringing his face dangerously close to the shield. People were starting to stare. 

Gladio's honey eyes were wide. “Shit. Iggy, you weren't this mad last night.” 

“I was being calm for her highness’ sake,” he lied. He simply imagined it hadn't been that bad. It hadn't expected her to save the bloody thing. 

Gladio sighed, slumping against the wall in a sitting position. “Dude--just, if you're gonna kill me, do it, okay? I feel awful about it. It really was an accident. We talked about it last night.” 

Ignis blinked. “You did?” 

He nodded, snorting mirthlessly, picking at a snag on his new jeans. “You'd be real proud of her. She was real diplomatic and calm.” Gladiolus frowned. “She's getting real good at hiding her emotions. I can't read her anymore.” 

Ignis pursed his lips. Yes, he knew the feeling. Still. “I trust you handled it?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. Told her I meant to send it to another girl.” 

“You _what?_ ” Ignis hissed, eyes going wide. He'd been on the other end of that line before. 

Gladio glancec up at Ignis pitifully. “What? You told me not to let her get any...ideas.” 

“Yes, well, that would imply you having enough foresight to imagine that pictures of you masturbating might give her the wrong idea to begin with,” he growled.

Gladio blinked up at him. “That's oddly specific. Did she send it to you?” 

“You forget I've been on the receiving end of your ‘sorry that was meant for someone else’ texts,” Ignis sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 

Gladio winced. “Yeah. Guess you're right.” 

There's a silence between them--Ignis was still in khakis, even if he's only wearing a henley today--but he slid down the wall to the floor beside Gladiolus. Eyes unfocused, he watches the lights of the arcade blink kaleidoscope colors onto the marble floor. He heard Gladio lick his lips. 

“You ever think about it?” Gladio asked suddenly, causing Ignis to almost jump out of his skin. 

“About what?” he probed carefully, feeling as if he already knew the answer. 

Gladio cleared his throat. “Me and you. Gettin’ back together.” 

Ignis frowned. “I believed that proved to be rather disastrous last time.” 

Gladio snorted, and Ignis knew he was remember the same awkward fumbling he was, the same frustration they both had felt when Ignis just didn't have the time to see to Gladiolus, because Noctis always came first. Ignis remembered Gladiolus’ wandering eye when it came to women, flinching at the brief remembrance at how he'd felt at seventeen. It had felt wonderful and terrible to be with Gladio. He wouldn't do it again, not in a billion years. 

“Yeah. Guess you're right.”

Ignis smiled, nudging Gladio's knee with his own. “It's not as if you don't have dozens upon dozens of women just dying for a taste.” 

Gladio rolled his eyes dramatically, before his heavy gaze fell on Ignis. “Offer stands, though. We could be whatever you want us to be.”

Ignis let his hand rest on Gladio's knee, feeling the warmth through the thick denim. He sighed. He liked Gladio too much to kill him today. “I like being friends.” 

Gladio grinned. “Best friends it is, then.”

Ignis scoffed, nudging him again with a knee, leaving it so their legs were flush together. It was comfortable. “Surely you could pick a better best friend.” 

“Hey,” he barked sincerely. “You're a stick in the mud; but you're my stick in the mud.” 

“Thank you,” Ignis returned dryly. “However, I feel sorely neglected at this revelation. Best friends, and yet you've never once braided my hair. Tsk tsk, Gladdy, and our high school years are gone. Much too late for a pillow fight.” 

Gladio chuckled. “Yeah, well, I was a little preoccupied in high school sucking your--” 

“Nope, not doing that,” Ignis immediately said, rising to his feet and dusting off the ass of his khakis. Gladio's raucous laughter echoed around the mall. 

“Why so shy, Iggy? We're just taking a little trip down memory lane.” 

“Some of us prefer to keep cleaner thoughts, Gladiolus.”

“Uh-huh. Noct and Prom were talking about you in the car, you know.” 

Ignis froze, color filling up his cheeks, beyond thankful that he was facing away from the taller man. Ignis pushed his bangs away from his forehead, clearing his throat. 

“Oh? What about?” 

He could practically feel Gladio's grin as the larger man slithered around to face, his bare arms practically jumping with the effort of staying still, folding across his chest. Ignis watched his biceps in hopes Gladio wouldn't know; Gladio always knew. Cheeky git. 

“The, uh, little _twink_ thinks you don't like him. Said you went from hot to cold then back again the other night. Said he'd never seen you smile before,” Gladio paused, his amber eyes cutting to the side to glance at Ignis knowingly. “Wanna tell me what's up with that?” 

Bloody hell, Gladio knew Ignis was fucked. He knew. He'd done the same bloody thing with Gladio all those years ago. 

He should really smother that emotion now before it started getting out of hand. 

“I'm trying harder to be nicer to him,” Ignis said amicably, folding his own lithe arms across his chin. “For Noct’s sake. Is there a problem with that?”

“Cut the shit,” Gladio whispered, towering over Ignis like a behemoth in those muddy boots of his. His smile was razor sharp, quirking up his cheeks until his eyes wrinkled at the corners with mischief. An absolute shit eating grin. “You like Prompto, don't you, Ignis?”

The tidal wave of shame flung itself over him until he felt dizzy; he felt small, invisible under Gladio's gaze. Best friends be damned, even Gladiolus would judge him for having feelings for this boy who was much too young, much too close to Noctis to be good for her. 

God, he'd barely paused to consider Noctis’ feelings about this. He felt sick. 

Having any significant other that would lead him to put Noct second in anyway was awful; being with her best friend was that much worse. 

“Well?” Gladio asked again, and Ignis was borderline shaking, ready to run out of the mall or confess everything right then when familiar voices rang out in greeting. 

“Hey! Igster!” 

He was going to have a heart attack. 

Prompto and Noctis were exiting the arcade, arms slung over each other comically. Ignis allowed himself just a moment to study, just a moment to wonder how these two had even become friends in the first place, they made such a contrasting picture. 

Noctis had her arm slung around Prompto's waist, her chubby hands tucked into his pockets, and from here he could see she'd bothered with some silver rings this morning from her jewelry box, and something that looked an awful lot like the mood ring Ignis had won her at an arcade when she was no more than seven, displayed proudly on her pinky finger. She was in leggings today, tucked into her own combat boots, and a long black v-neck that looked as if it didn't even belong to her. The jacket slung over her shoulders was definitely Gladiolus’ leather jacket, worn across the back and swallowing her entirely. 

Prompto had done her makeup again, a pretty cat-eye that she liked and some raspberry lipstick that he wasn't sure why Prompto even owned. Her hair wasn't brushed, but her bangs had been pulled back into a ponytail, the too-short under length left to curl unruly around her face like a thicket of briars. Her twilight eyes were gleaming, even across the room, smiling at Ignis and Gladio like they were her favorite people in the world. She looked almost okay today, almost happy.

Ignis’ chest panged with guilt. 

Prompto, on the other hand, was the sunbeam to Noctis’ moonlight. One arm slung over her shoulders, hand hanging gentlemanly off to the side instead of letting it trail against the open collar of her chest, and the other holding something between them, he looked bright and radiant. He was in a jacket Ignis was almost positive had been Noctis’--a pink and white satin letterman jacket, little cotton striped trim around the cuffs and the collar. Underneath he wore a simple white tank--or what appeared to be a tank, and at further inspection revealed itself to be a white ribbed bodysuit. He could hear Gladio snicker when Ignis’ breath caught in his throat. 

Vintage, light wash mom jeans and a pair of converse for his lower half, his legs trailing clumsily along beside Noctis’ more graceful form, he was smiling at Ignis, but not brightly. Almost sadly. 

Ah. Their little plan. Ignis had almost forgotten. 

Prompto hadn't bothered with makeup today--decidedly a good look for him either way, Ignis decided, even if that constellation of freckles did make his heart thrum in his chest when he'd realized he'd started to remember their patterns. 

_Deep breaths. You'll get through this, Scientia, just don't think about anything you shouldn't._

He was fine. 

Until he realized the thing Prompto and Noctis had been passing back and forth had been a cherry red lollipop. 

_Don't stare at his mouth!_

Too late, much too late, they were halfway here and Ignis could make out the insides of his cracked lips, dyed a vivacious claret color. If the Astrals had any pity on him, they'd stop Prompto from flashing his undoubtedly bright red tongue at them, lest Ignis keel over and die right here. 

“If you say a word,” Ignis hissed under his breath to Gladiolus, but Gladio was just laughing like Ignis’ pain was the most hilarious thing in all Eos. Worst bloody best friend ever. 

“Hey, guys!” Noct grinned, pulling the lollipop from her lips and sticking her tongue out at Ignis, revealing a longe red cherry stripe across her tongue. “Hey, Speccy.” 

“Hello, Highness,” Ignis sighed amicably. “Prompto. Ready for the fitting?” 

She groaned, ducking her head into the slim column of Prompto's neck; he had a mole there, pale, right above the dip of his clavicle. He giggled, pushing her away. 

“Iggy, I hate this stuff,” she moaned.

“Well, at least you have Prompto with you, don't you?” Ignis reminded, watching Noctis perk up immediately, seizing Prompto's free hand. 

“Yeah, you're right! Prom's first Citadel party,” she wiggled her eyebrows, watching Prompto pale a few shades. 

Ignis turned away to avoid watching the color shift, leading the three of them into the shop, greeting the older woman behind the counter to remind them of the arrangements he'd sent her, attempting to ignore Prompto's nervous chatter behind him. 

“Prompto, Noctis, you two first, yes?” 

Prompto blinked. “When did you get my measurements?” he asked as the woman behind the counter seized his hand, dragging him forward toward a curtained stall with a suit tucked under one arm. Ignis grinned as he locked the shop door, flipping the shops sign to closed. 

“I requested a copy of your medical records from your university and took the liberty of sending the most relevant physical dimensions to the tailor,” he explained, and amended, upon seeing Prompto's stricken expression, “I didn't look.” 

It was a lie; but he hadn't looked closely, not far back, either. He'd only meant to see if there was something more to the reasons of Prompto's chronic illness. Nothing exciting. Nothing to explain the flush to his cheeks or his violent retching just nights before. 

“This belongs to her Highness,” the pretty girl behind the desk instructed, handing Ignis a garment bag. 

“I trust you won't need help changing, now that you're an adult?” Ignis chuckled, holding the garment bag out over Noct's head, leaving her reaching with a pout. 

“You always designing these gowns so that the buttons are in the ninth circle of Ifrit’s ass-crack. You tell me.” 

“Go change, Noctis--and no, Gladiolus, she doesn't need your help.”

\----

“Prompto, you're doing a shitty job, dude.” 

He would've screamed, if Noct hadn't clamped her hand over his mouth, Prompto's own hands coming up to cover his naked chest. 

“Oh, stop, I've seen you shirtless, you twat.” 

“What are you doing in here?” Prompto hissed. “This is my dressing room--If Ignis sees--”

“Shut up and he won't find out,” she growled, placing her hands on her hips, and Prompto was immediately distracted by the lovely shimmer of fabric at her waist. “Remember the plan; convince him you're gay. Also, take that stupid wristband off. It doesn't match your tux.”

She was already slipping back on her side of the curtain before he could ask her how to tie a bowtie. 

\----

“Ta-da, it's super pretty, okay, I'm gonna go change again, bye--” 

“Not so fast, young lady,” Ignis commanded, snatching her slim wrist with his gloved hand. “Let's have a look? It's a bit too long.” 

“It looks perfect, Princess,” Gladio breathed breathlessly, his attention suddenly drawn away from the pretty sales girl behind the desk. The older woman tottered around, pins pressed between her lips, swarming Noct's ankles dutifully. “Iggy, you really outdid yourself on the design this year.” 

“It is her coming out season,” Ignis said a tad boastfully. “I wanted her to look nice.” 

“There's no leather,” Noct pouted. “And it feels tight--”

“You're not used to wearing something so form fitting, is all,” Ignis assured. “It'll feel better with your corset beneath it.” 

Noctis paled immediately. “Ignis, you can't be serious. I hate those things!” 

“It's only for a few hours, Highness,” he assured with a smile, circling her like a shark as the tailor worked at the hem. 

Ignis really had made a masterpiece this year; all eyes would be on Noctis at the upcoming Gala, and she needed to look perfect. The gown was simple, nothing she wouldn't approve of. Satin silk, thick and pressed stiff into a slim frock, a sweetheart neckline, an a-line dress that fell to the floor in a shimmering puddle. The dress shimmered like a scale, kaleidoscope colors from silver to black to the twilight blue that wasn't quite her eyes, but nearly. 

He'd considered a black cape, only briefly, and, seeing it now on her, puddled behind her regally, he knew it was the right choice. 

“How about some leather shoulder patches, here and here, to secure the shroud? Is that a fitting compromise?” he amended, hands on her shoulders. 

She grinned, looking a bit feral in such pretty clothes with her briar patch hair and wicked smile. “I'd love it.” 

“Perfect. We'll add that to the list. I'm assuming you have no interest in a split up the side of your dress?” 

“Nope. Boots would be nice, though,” she begged with a cheesy smile. 

“We'll talk about it. Boot heels, at a minimum.” 

“Iggy--” she whined.

“It has to match the diadem, Princess.” 

She paled, thawing immediately into stoicism. The tiara would be new; not something she wanted to wear. Regis had chosen her mother's jewels for Noctis to wear to the Gala, as was the tradition. 

She was less than thrilled about it. It made her head feel heavy already. 

“See if we can add a bit more fabric around her hips? Make her look a bit fuller, if possible,” Ignis requested, Noctis mimicking it back in a mocking tone, earning her a look.

A shadow at the corner of Ignis’ field of vision caught his eye, the movement lethargic, undetected. 

Prompto. 

Ignis’ breath caught, before covering it with a soft chuckle. He'd made a mess of the suit already, the collar rumpled and the buttons in the wrong holes. It looked as if he'd struggled with his bowtie for quite a bit of time before giving up entirely, leaving it wrinkled and undone under his collar. The suit looked a tad big on him; one of his wrists bulging with the strain over covering his thick, green sweatband. 

Smiling sheepishly at Ignis, he gestured to his neck in apology. 

“I, uh, don't know how to tie a bowtie,” he mumbled, and Ignis knew he shouldn't, but he was across the room in an instant, standing over the younger man and buttoning his collar up his throat, careful not to touch any of the soft skin there. 

He'd never been this close. The sinewy muscles cording along the sides of Prompto's throat jumped under the skin with Ignis’ fingers in close proximity, deftly tying the knot around the boy's throat, careful not to choke him. Ignis let himself chance a glance up, and sure enough, the insides of his dry lips were still a rosy hue from the cherry sucker. 

Ignis had always had a sweet tooth. 

He vaulted himself back several steps when he finished, clearing his throat and nodding amicably at no one in particular. “There. Look alright?” 

“You'd know better than I would,” Prompto chuckled half-heartedly, glancing between the full length mirror and Ignis anxiously, clearly asking for approval. 

Ignis should've complimented him; should've told him that he looked _nice_ or something to that effect. Ignis was more talented than anyone at giving disingenuous compliments. 

Except they weren't; he'd mean them, which was the awful part of it. Prompto, despite his faults, the obvious mess that he was, looked just, well, adorable in that wrinkled, too-large suit, smiling sheepishly at Ignis and asking Ignis for his opinion on his appearance. 

Ignis called on Gladio, lest the word beautiful somehow come tumbling out of his mouth. 

Gladio was a bit preoccupied, the girl behind the desk scribbling her name and number in sharpie along the tawny strip of his arm. Noct, clearly unenthused, let out a low whistle once she set her eyes on Prompto. 

“Someone's bringing sexy back!” she whooped, jumping off her pedestal to come stand beside him, dragging him so that they both faced the mirror. 

“Do remember we're in public, Highness--”

“Prompto, you and I are going to be the hottest couple in all of Insomnia. Every gossip mag in the city is gonna want a piece of you,” she grinned, tugging on his arm excitedly. 

Ignis blanched. Wouldn't Regis just love that.   
“Noct, it's best Prompto doesn't go as your date--people would get the wrong idea,” Ignis reminded, stepping behind her in the mirror, twisting her hair up in the glass to reveal her pretty flushed cheeks. 

“Oh,” Prompto muttered dejectedly. Ignis watched his face fall, feet shuffling. 

“You didn't even let us go to the prom together, Specs,” Noct pouted, clinging on to Prompto's arm tighter. Ignis watched Prompto's soured expression, mouth twisting up bitterly with some reflective thought, when Gladio tore his gaze away from the brunette at the desk. 

“Prompto, just goes as Iggy's date.” 

Ignis froze, color heating the back of his neck until he saw red. Oh, that cheeky bastard had planned that--

“It's called a plus one,” was all he found himself saying, however, glaring dryly at a piece of lint stuck to his cuff. 

“Doesn't matter what it's called,” Gladio snorted. “Because you aren't gonna use it anyway.” 

“I'm sure Prompto has better things to do then to hang off my arm all evening--” 

“Ignis, it's okay,” Prompto's voice came from behind him. Ignis nearly melted into his shoes at the soft tone. Was it embarrassment that colored it, or the shyness that Prompto possessed around him? 

Ignis turned, quirking an eyebrow, hoping that he didn't look, well, hopeful. Lips parted, and eyes wide, he watched the younger boy smile at him with a reserved expression, lips twitching nervously. 

“You're sure?” 

Prompto nodded, eyes glued to the floor. “It's a date.” 

\----

“When I said pretend to be gay, I didn't mean hit on Specs,” Noct grumbled again while the two of them were waiting for Ignis and Gladio to finish with their fittings. 

Prompto really didn't have the energy to argue; his reflection had really drained his mood. Still, he sighed. 

“I wasn't hitting on him, I was genuinely accepting the offer. Just because it plays into your twisted little plan doesn't mean that's why I said it,” he grumbled, letting his head slump back against the wall. 

Besides, it wasn't a real date or anything. Prompto would probably need to stay by Ignis’ side for the better part of the evening anyway just to survive. It wasn't like Ignis, you know, liked him or anything. He was one of Insomnia’s most eligible bachelors, surely women would be flocking over him all night. 

Besides, Prompto looked horrendous in that suit. Even hypothetically, it didn't make sense for Ignis to, you know, like Prompto or anything. 

“Ready to go, dorks?” Gladio grumbled, holding out two hands to pull the kids to their feet. Noct nodded, never letting go of Gladio's hand. 

“The melted candy bar in my back pocket says you can beat me at skiibal in the arcade,” she grinned. Gladio grinned down at her, hoisting her up under his arm, the way he might carry Iris in jest. 

“Well, your candy bar is gonna have to eat my dick, because you're on.” 

“Let's go!” 

Prompto watched them go, sprinting down the mall hall to the arcade, vaguely aware of the dull throbbing of loneliness in his chest. Easily forgotten. Always left behind. Yeah, Prom was familiar with it. 

So was someone else. 

“They're incorrigible; absolute children.” 

Prompto jumped, easing as he noticed who it was that fell into step with him. Ignis had that soft expression on his face, the one that made his lips look plush and his eyes look playful in a pure way, like he cared about Prompto. It was almost the same gentle look he gave Noctis when she wasn't looking, but not quite. 

“I suppose everyone needs a break from all of this now and again,” Ignis sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets. He looked good today, Prompto realized, in just a henley and khakis. More relaxed. His hair was swept to the side today, revealing a bit more of his forehead, and a small smattering of acne that Prompto was too familiar with to find off putting, especially when Ignis was grinning crookedly at him. 

“You don't have to do this, you know,” Ignis said suddenly snapping him from his revere. 

“Do what?” 

“Join the crownsguard. It won't be easy. You can go to this party and still decide to back out, you know.” 

“I know,” Prompto said, a bit forcefully. “You guys aren't making me do anything. I'm doing this because I want to.” 

“It won't be easy.” 

“You said that already.” 

Ignis chuckled, cutting his green eyes to the floor. “I did indeed. What I mean by it is in addition that rigorous training, you're going to have to be familiar with protocol. It's a bit different from just etiquette. You and I--in order to master this--we'll have to be spending more time together, I'm afraid. This isn't just a split decision, you know.” 

“Ignis,” Prompto assured, and something about him seemed muted, even in his pastel pink jacket and faded jeans, that ugly green wrist band still poking out of his sleeve. “I know.” 

Ignis felt it, then, the thing that connected the two of them, strung more tightly than any little red string of fate in Gladio's awful romance novels. 

“You'd do anything for her, wouldn't you?” Ignis asked softly, following Prompto's gaze to where the Princess and Gladio were bumping shoulders, shoving each other to the side to throw the balls up the ramp at alarming speeds. 

Prompto snorted. “You're one to talk. When's the last time you slept?” 

Ignis simply sighed, allowing himself an indulgent chuckle. It was getting easier, being with Prompto. 

“I'll see you tonight for our lesson?” Ignis asked, checking his watch momentarily. 

Prompto was smiling again. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 5k words this chapter, crazy stuff. It may be a tad bit longer for the next update, but it shouldn't be more than a week. I'm transferring to a new uni this weekend so everything is super crazy rn. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading to the end. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Enjoy your weekend ♡♡♡♡♡


	7. You'd Better Cool it Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being this close to a Prompto was borderline dangerous, he knew. He'd been trying for weeks now to avoid him best he could, give him a wide berth to prevent any sort of spark that might fuel the schoolboy crush he'd been harboring in his chest. 
> 
> And here they were again, face to face, Prompto looking at Ignis with those determined, red rimmed eyes, and Ignis felt the enchantment fall over him again. He'd never felt so weak. 
> 
> In which Prompto gets a gift and Noctis gets some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for the sweet words last chapter! It means so much. As always you can find me @thicchocobo on tumblr. 
> 
> (Tw: mentions of anorexia, depression, sex, swearing)

Their lessons continued. 

After the incident at the mall, Ignis had become more reserved in their sessions, if not outright cold. There had been a point during their fine dining exercise Prompto had almost burst into tears--he suspected that was only half Ignis’ fault, though. 

He wanted to tell Noct. 

Seeing himself in the suit had sapped everything out of Prompto; he looked lumpy, ruddy, out of place in a suit that cost more than his tuition this semester (which was nothing to sneeze at, in and of itself). 

Ignis had dropped off the suit with Prompto at Noct's apartment one evening, a place Ignis had been spending less and less time to Noct's chagrin. Prompto was almost positive he was the problem. 

Laying the garment bags out on the counter, Ignis took care to label the two, lest they somehow get confused. 

“Just leave Prom's here,” Noct sighed. “We can get ready together.” 

“If that's what you prefer,” Ignis agreed in monotone, avoiding eye contact. Noct was lounging across Prompto's lap on the couch, sprawled like a cat, eying Ignis curiously with an expression that seemed almost pained. Prompto kept promising her he was simply busy, working himself to the bone to keep up with the upcoming fall festival and Harvest Gala, but somehow it only made her feel worse. 

“How much do I owe you for the tux?” Prompto asked in feigned nonchalance, one hand reaching for his back pocket, the other still buried in Noctis’ twilight curls. She immediately punched him in the thigh. 

“Nothing, dumbass. You're royal retinue now, remember? Best things in life,” she grinned, glancing over at Ignis for agreement, but he kept his back rigid to them, pulling containers out of a bag; he wouldn't be staying to eat supper with them. Again. 

Prompto frowned, glancing at Noctis with flushed cheeks. “You don't have to do that. You know I hate it when you buy me stuff.”

She shrugged, turning her cheek so that it was pressed against the denim of Prompto's thigh. “I want to. Besides, Specs is actually paying for it.” 

“A waste of taxpayer money,” Ignis replied, causing the younger ones to snap to attention. Ignis still had yet to turn around. 

His inflection made it impossible to tell if he was joking. 

It was Gladio who had been driving Noct to lessons, Gladio who swung by some nights to check the apartment, see that Prompto _got the fuck out before I call the King and let him know you're knocking up his daughter_ , made sure Noct was alright, period. 

Prompto wasn't so sure that she was; but he wasn't about to stay the night with her if it meant overtime for Ignis. He'd done enough for him. Still, Noctis looked tired, too pale--tonight she was entirely bare faced, even her lips looked ghastly white in her soft face. Ignis had cut her hair recently, so it now fell to the nape of her neck. If Prompto didn't know any better, under her baggy pajamas, he might as well have thought she were a boy. 

“I suppose I'll be off, then,” Ignis called out without so much as a glance in their direction, shoehorning his shiny loafers into place. “Dinner is on the counter; do try to wash the dishes when you're done, Noctis.” 

She didn't reply, just continued to lay lethargically against Prompto's lap, biting back on a response that _wasn't he supposed to babysit?_

But he wasn't. Noctis was nineteen, Prompto nearly just as old. He shouldn't have to watch them, virgin alarm or otherwise. Regardless, Ignis was on his way out the door. 

“I trust I'll see you in an hour, Prompto?”

“It's a date,” Prompto replied, again, trying to give Ignis a smile over the arm of the couch; despite the fact Ignis never even gave him a glance back before he exited the apartment. 

The two of them laid there for a moment, taking in the cool atmosphere of the apartment; as if Ignis had vanished but a phantom form appeared, haunting around, looming over them in disapproval. She was crying, quietly. Prompto knew better than to say anything. 

“You should probably go,” she murmured, sitting up without looking at him. “Catch the bus or something. Gladio’ll be here soon.” 

Prompto nodded. He didn't need Ignis’ etiquette lessons to let him know he wasn't wanted. 

\----  
 **From: Noct**   
**6:57 pm**  
 _prom didnt get anything to eat here. left straight for his place_

 **From: Ignis**   
**6:57 pm**   
_I see. I'll be sure to see to it he doesn't go hungry, Highness._

 **From: Noct**   
**7:07 pm**  
 _thanks specs_

 **From: Ignis**   
**7:08 pm**   
_You're feeling quite alright? Anything you may need?_

 **From: Noct**   
**7:20 pm**  
 _nah gladios spending the night have fun with prom_

 

 **From: Ignis**   
**7:21 pm**   
_Indeed_

\----

Prompto was trying harder. Not just with the lessons; but being a bit harder on himself, as well. If as many people were going to have their eyes on him as Noct and Ignis made it seem, Prom was going to have to shape up one way or another. 

Ignis made it really fucking hard, though. 

It was a conversation night, again, except this time Ignis had added the challenge of food. Prompto knew he'd have to eat at the Gala--he couldn't not eat. Still, attempting to obey proper dining rules while still being attentive to Ignis rambling on about foreign affairs was difficult to master. 

Especially when all Prompto could do was stare at this plate embarrassingly, feeling more than uncomfortable as a hot wash of shame crept up his neck. 

“Prompto,” Ignis deadpanned, glaring at Prompto with those early autumn eyes that made Prompto want to swallow his own tongue. “Do try and focus? The festival is two weeks away now.” 

“Shit, sorry, I--” Prompto stared at his untouched plate with a dry mouth. “I'm sorry, Iggy.”

Ignis sighed staunchly, the same way he did whenever Prompto used any sort of abbreviation of his name. He was still holding fast to the claim they weren't friends. 

Prompto supposed that was for the best. It's just that, well, Noct had been so absent, and he needed someone to vomit it guts up to--not, you know, literally or anything. 

“No need for apologies, Prompto. Perhaps a break is in order?” offering a strained grin, Ignis rose, stretching in his designer suit, the purple dress shirt straining against the ropes of muscle pressed under his skin. Prompto only stared a little. 

Yeah, Ignis was total goals; granted, the only thing Prompto ever saw Ignis consume were lethal amounts of ebony. Where Ignis had taut plains of muscle, Prompto had soft rolls hidden beneath the high waist of his jeans. 

He couldn't afford to eat before the Harvest Gala. He needed to look his best for Noct, for Iggy. He needed to be better. 

“Have you been sleeping okay?” Prompto asked without thinking, glancing up at Ignis nonetheless. His normally caramel complexion had paled to a more sickly pallor, almost purple in hue, matching the thick bruises under her eyes--reminding Prompto yet again about the odd bruising Noct had had around her own eyes a few weeks ago, covering it up with a potion and a “Don't tell Specs”. It made him feel guilty again, leaving her. 

He couldn't help but feel like shit sometimes, though, not when Noct managed to make everything about her. 

Ignis gave a thin lipped smile. “Never you mind; it's none of your concern. Preparations for the Harvest Gala are exceedingly more important than my personal schedule.” 

Prom didn't reply, instead opting to push his plate away with a pinky, before rising to go lay out on the couch, patting the space beside him for Ignis to join. 

“Do your parents always work nights, Prompto?” Ignis asked quizzically, studying one of the few photo frames in the house; just Prompto's freshman year school pictures. Noct actually had a copy of it in her journal, so Ignis had definitely seen it before. Regardless, it made Prompto flush. 

He shrugged. “I mean, yeah? They're scientists, up at the Insomnian Institute. They just spend a lot of time up there. Their research is their baby and all that jazz.” 

Poor word choice, probably, but Ignis wasn't making any move to acknowledge him. 

“You know you're more than welcome to spend the night at Noct’s anytime, yes?” he replied softly, causing Prompto to snap to attention. 

“But, you'd have to be there.” 

Ignis chuckled. There it was again, the shift from Jekyll to Hyde. “I understand that I'm not the most entertaining company--” 

“Iggy, I just meant that I don't want to create anymore work for you.” 

He winced, barely visible, but Prompto's keen eyes didn't miss the tightening across the back of his shoulders under his button down. 

“Please refrain from calling me Iggy,” he murmured. “It's hardly appropriate. Surely you don't address your professors in such a manner?” 

“You aren't my professor,” Prompto replied dutifully. “You're my friend.”

“Prompto--” 

“Do you have friends? Outside of Noct and Gladio?” 

“ _Prompto!_ ”

“Just listen, okay?” he nearly shouted, grabbing Ignis’ attention immediately. He'd been trying to avoid looking at the smaller boy, but now he was perched on his knees on the couch, jeans riding low on his hips beneath a thick flannel, face flushed, and Ignis couldn't look away. 

“I was only go to say that I get it, okay? Noct, she's my only friend. And she's a lot to handle sometimes, because she doesn't always feel well, and it seems like she doesn't care. I know she's just forgetful, but...listen, my point is--when she's preoccupied like this, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here, okay? We could make this work.” 

“You're a child,” Ignis replied immediately. 

Prompto rolled his eyes. “You know you aren't as old as you think you are, right?” 

“I'm nearly twenty-one.” 

“Dude, that's only like, what? Two years older than me? You can't even drink!” 

“Not outside the Citadel.” 

Prompto blinked. “Was...was that a joke?” 

Ignis crooked a smile. “Actually, it's a fact, but I suppose it's rather funny. I'm known, on occasion, to make jokes as well.” 

“R-right,” Prompto breathed, raking a hand through his messy hair. “Listen, Ig--ugh, Ignis, I just--I mean it? So….” 

Ignis sighed, setting his cup of ebony down carefully onto the countertop, stalking slowly across the floor to allow himself to sit on the couch. Being this close to a Prompto was borderline dangerous, he knew. He'd been trying for weeks now to avoid him best he could, give him a wide berth to prevent any sort of spark that might fuel the schoolboy crush he'd been harboring in his chest. 

And here they were again, face to face, Prompto looking at Ignis with those determined, red rimmed eyes, and Ignis felt the enchantment fall over him again. He'd never felt so weak. 

“I am here,” Ignis began slowly, in an attempt to choose his words wisely, lest something unforgivable pop out. “To see that you are well prepared for the Harvest Gala, so that you may be admitted to the crownsguard for Noct’s sake. There's nothing more important to me in this whole world than that little girl.” 

“I know,” Prompto replied immediately, ducking his chin to his check. Ignis smiled at him. 

“Yes, I know you know. I think you're one of the few people that do,” Ignis agreed, almost reaching out to lay a hand in the boy's shoulder before thinking better of it. “And you've no idea how much I value your friendship with Noctis. You understand her in a way I never could.” 

“That's not true--” 

“Yes, it is. I'm indebted to you, Prompto,” Ignis sighed, turning away from the boy's violet eyes, where they were blazing and incredulous, staring into Ignis’ own. “And I want to make it clear; if you need anything, I'm here for you, but as a mentor, not a friend.” 

Prompto was silent, turning stiffly in his seat. 

“So, I can come to you, but you can't come to me? Dude, no offense, but that's bullshit.” 

“I'd prefer it be that way,” Ignis sighed, holding out his palms in a sign of retreat as he rose from the couch. Being too close to Prompto revealed the silver constellation of freckles across his cheeks, and they were becoming distracting. 

“That's dumb, though. Then I'm just another kid for you to babysit--” 

“How about a trade?” Ignis found himself saying before he could stop him. His back to Prompto, he half hoped the boy would just let the words drop between them, but he doesn't. 

“A trade?” 

“We maintain a professional relationship until your admittance to the crownsguard, then we can begin a familiar relationship, if that's what you wish,” Ignis provided neutrally, his whole face warm with the implication. 

“Then you'd treat me the same way you'd treat Gladio?” Prompto asked hopefully--and if all the blood wasn't pooling in Ignis’ ears, it was suddenly flushing down his chest to his stomach at alarming speeds; _that_ certainly wasn't an implication he needed, nor a visual he wanted. 

“More or less,” Ignis promised as Prompto circled again him, standing suddenly toe to toe with a bright smile on his face. Ignis took a respectful step back. “I don't want anyone accusing me of favoritism--not that this isn't the reason you'll be handed the position anyway, but--oh, don't give me that look, I know you'll put in the work.” 

“Of course I will,” Prom said, face pink with determination. It was almost funny, watching his pink lips downturn like a child's. “I'm not gonna let all this hard work you've put in go to waste--oh, wait here!” 

Ignis was left in the dust as Prompto bounded to his bedroom, slamming the door quickly behind him. They'd yet to venture into that area of the house together, much to Ignis’ relief. With Prompto's visage creeping at the edges of his dreams every night, it was probably for the best not to see the boy reclining on his mattress. 

Prompto returned quickly, a little pink plastic bottle in his palm, holding it out to Ignis in a similarly colored hand. 

“They're herbs for your headaches. Might help you sleep too, if you need it,” he mumbled, pushing the bottle against Ignis’ chest when the advisor wouldn't reach for it. Ignis seized it, swallowing thickly when their fingers brushed. Prompto mimicking the action, the dip of his throat making a show of swallowing, Ignis’ eyes tracing the descent of his adam's apple and back up again. 

“This is what I meant by inappropriate,” Ignis sighed, playing the good cop again. Prompto shrugged. 

“Can't be on your top game without some sleep, Igster.” 

“Indeed.” 

“Friends get friends presents.” 

Ignis winced, suddenly remembering the velvet box folded up in his bag. “Now that you mentioned it, I actually have something for you, as well.”

Prompto blinked. “You didn't have to--why?” 

Ignis pursed his lips, digging through his satchel before producing the box, holding it out to him. Rectangular and velvet, he watched as Prompto ran his hands over jewelry box wondrously, his cheeks pink. 

“For the Harvest Gala,” Ignis said thickly, clearing his throat in an attempt at nonchalance. It wasn't entirely true, but not false. “You can't very well go with your wristband on. I thought you were deserving of a replacement. Noct informed me that the accessory of yours was a rather permanent fixture, and I understand if it's sentimental, but not up to the dress code, unfortunately.” 

Ignis had a hunch it was less than sentimental--whether it was scarring or an odd birthmark on his wrist, Ignis hadn't wanted him going in exposed and uncomfortable. Prompto cracked the box open in wonder, staring with wide eyes at the gift. 

“The saleswoman was kind enough to inform me no one utilizes watches anymore, and that this might provide something a bit more stylish for someone your age.” 

He waited for another quip about his age, but Prompto was already pulling the little leather strap out of the box, staring wide eyed. “Wasn't this expensive?” 

“Consider it a military expense.”

“When did you have the time?” 

Ignis wasn't ready to admit that he'd spent a late evening away from the Citadel roaming the mall looking for a decent gift, so he simply shrugged. It wasn't anything overly flashy--he'd turned down two other bands with spikes and diamonds, knowing Prompto would've blanched, or worst, lost the damned thing. Just a black leather band with a silver pop clasp, easy to undo and redo. 

“Ignis, I can't accept this--” 

“I shall be offended if you don't; or if you show up in that hideous sweatband.” 

“Hideous?” Prompto screeched with a laugh, but regardless turned around and fashioned the band to his wrist, yanking up the sleeve of his flannel and spinning to show Ignis after giving it a few tugs. “How's it look?” 

“Dashing,” Ignis said without thinking, a warm flush on his cheeks. “And it will match the tux splendidly.” 

“Uh, thanks, Iggy--er, sorry, Mr. Scientia, sir.” 

“The sass is unnecessary,” Ignis said, but he was still smiling wryly as Prompto held out his arm, examining the gift in the light. Ignis would never admit he'd bought it with his own money, or that he'd spent much too long waiting for this moment, just to see Prompto smile. 

He was selfish, endlessly so. He wanted to be the reason Prompto smiled. 

“We should get back to our lesson, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Prompto grinned, tugging his sleeve back down to cover his wrist. 

“Right, now, surely you'll be propositioned for information or, erm, other less savory things at the Gala by reporters or other socialites. We're going to practice saying no. Now, politely discourage me from entering your room.” 

“Wait, what?” 

\----

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you gonna let me in or what?” 

“Door's open,” came the muffled reply, immediately setting Gladio on high alert. 

Noct was sprawled on her bed, a stack of files on her pillow, none of them opened. She didn't quite meet Gladio's eyes, instead just stared blankly at the space he occupied as if he weren't even there. 

“Woah,” he whistled low, immediately pulling his jacket from his shoulders. “Someone's out of it.” 

She didn't move until Gladiolus came around, made to move to place his leather jacket over her shoulders, and she shrugged into it quickly. He pretended not to notice when she pressed her nose to the collar--surely it didn't smell _good_. He knew how teenage girls could be, though. 

“Iris has been asking for you,” Gladio grinned, sliding to lay across the foot of her bed, propping himself up on his elbows. Noctis took like a wilted flower to water, the life visibly returning to her eyes, quirking her lips into a smile. “Wants to go to the Gala.” 

“Of course she does,” Noct said, leaning against her headboard--nearly ten feet away from Gladio. She was in sweats tonight, all baggy, bare faced and boyish. “Little girls love balls--stop, don't _laugh_ , you know I didn't mean it like that!” 

“No, it's just that I'm not all that sure Iris is interested in balls at all,” Gladio choked on his laughter again. 

“You're hilarious,” Noct deadpanned. “You shouldn't make fun of her for a crush.” 

“It's not a crush, Princess; Iris has been in love with you since she was six.”

Noct groaned, hands scrubbing at her face. “I should be so lucky. At least a thirteen year old likes me.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Gladio rolled his eyes. “You're not gonna fish for compliments from me, you asshole.” 

“Grounds for treason,” Noct grinned, flopping against her pillows, sending the files to the floor. “Fuck. I'll fix that later.”

“That Argentum kid wants to fuck your brains out,” Gladio provided kindly, making Noct's nose wrinkled. 

“Yeah, I wish.” 

“You _wish_?” Gladio nearly screamed, causing Noctis to roll unenthused back into the pillows in preparation for the lecture. “Are you crazy? You know you can't--”

“Yes! I know! No dicks until I'm married to Duke Anal Retention whose forty years old and has an affinity for caviar up his ass.” 

Gladio blinked. “That's specific.” 

“Yeah, well, I've been having the conversation a lot lately,” she grumbled, smothering her face in the puffs of lace to mask the redness. 

Gladio felt like ice. “You asked--” 

“Fucking Six, _yes_ , as a recap, I asked Prom to sleep with me and he doesn't fucking want to, okay? Astrals, I'll just make a royal proclamation and save myself the time from repeating it.” 

“Kiddo--” 

“I'm not a fucking kid, okay?” she snarled. “Fuck, Gladio, I--” she froze, midsentence, fingers clenched unforgivingly into her pillowcase before relaxing against the bed. “No, nevermind, I'm not having this conversation with you.” 

Gladio had crept up the bed a bit, hesitant to reach out to her. “Don't cut me out, kid. Talk to me.”

“You wouldn't get it. It's fucking embarrassing.” 

“Yeah?” he said, crawling up until he was laying on his back beside her, no eyes on her. “Try me?” 

She seemed to hesitate a moment, torn between screaming her lungs out and letting her insides explode. 

“It's too easy to talk to you,” she murmured after a moment, rolling on her side to face him, but nonetheless keeping her gaze trained on his bare shoulder. “I say things I shouldn't.” 

“I guess it's a good thing we're chained together for life, huh?” he sighed, holding his hand on his stomach, faced up, and she reached for it without hesitance this time, letting her pale, soft cheek rest against his shoulder. 

“It's...hard. Coming out in season. Specs has been helping me prepare for it, but it's still...a lot, I guess?”

“Understandable,” Gladio murmured, reaching out to play with the freshly trimmed curls at the base of her neck. 

“You all are more worried about me staying out of trouble and kissing boys than the fact that next week I'm going to have grown ass men coming to my dad asking to marry me just so they can be the next king of Insomnia. It fucking sucks,” her voice broke momentarily, and Gladio was a bit surprised she hadn't cried. It only meant she'd been crying on her own time, late into the night. 

“You're the heir,” Gladio reminded. “You run Insomnia, not whoever they chose your husband to be. The Kings of old chose you, Noct.” 

“You're missing the point,” she whispered, knotting her fingers in his tank top. “Six, why are you so warm? It's October, it's freezing.” 

“I'm your shield,” he grinned cheekily, leaning down so that his scruff scratched at her temple. “Gotta keep you warm. Iggy has a theory that's why I'm so warm blooded.” 

“Stupid fucking space heater,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his chest. 

“I get that you want to marry who you want to. I get that,” Gladio whispered, still stroking through her hair, biting back on all the rumors about her parent’s rocky relationship, the rumors swirling around Ignis’ relationship to Regis, all the awful things that came with a loveless marriage. Amicitia's often experienced the same fate. It was duty. 

The difference being, Gladiolus was allowed free reign of his genitals. Noct couldn't even date publicly. 

“Spare me the lecture, okay? I know it all. I've had it all laid out for years now, okay? I'm not trying to change anything. I just wanna be allowed to be sad without the three of you looking at me like I fucking live for pity parties. No one fucking wants to feel this _sad_.” 

He doesn't say that he knows, because he doesn't. He can't say he understands. He just cups a hand behinds her skull and drags her so that she's buried in the nape of his neck, holding fast to her. He doesn't say he's going to be there for her; it's a given. She'll always have him. 

They laid there so long that Gladio had to remind himself she'd gone to bed without touching whatever dinner Iggy had prepared for her and Prompto, so Gladio carries her into the kitchen with minimal protests, her arms around his neck and her legs locked around his waist as he reheats the meal with minimal success. It felt oddly domestic in a way that made Gladio alarmingly uncomfortable with how pleased he felt by it. They eat at the countertop, grinning at each other every time Gladio reads an embarrassingly fond text from Iris about the Princess. 

“I had some good news for you,” Gladio grinned as they wash the dishes--well, he washes and Noct sits on the countertop, swinging her legs like a child. She perked immediately, clipping his thigh with her foot. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I'm not supposed to tell you, though. It's a secret.” 

Her twilight eyes are bright. “You're gonna tell me though, right?” 

Gladio grinned, wiping his hands on the towel. “What will you give me in return?” 

“Anything?” 

Noct rolled her eyes at his lewd grin. “Yes, I'll give you a fucking blow job and tell my dad all the gory details; what's the news?” 

“ _Noct!_ ”

“Dude, tell me.” 

Gladio groaned, leaning against the opposite countertop away from Noct, hoping the flush in his cheeks doesn't betray the flustered emotion in his chest. 

“We're going to have some guests at the Gala.” 

“Ew, so?” 

Gladio shrugged. “Sorr-ee. Just thought you might wanna know Princess Lunafreya was going to be in town--” 

“ _Luna?_ ”

Noct was bounding over to Gladio so quickly, it was practically a warp as she slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck in excitement. “Luna’s coming? Luna! Shiva’s tits, and no one was gonna tell me? Luna, Luna, Luna! Yes!” 

She was spinning in the kitchen, hooping with an energy Gladio hadn't seen in her in a very long time. 

“She's coming with her brother to celebrate the anniversary of the alliance treaty. I thought you might wanna know since you're so in love with the Oracle.” 

Noct blushed, calming immediately. “Shut up, we're just friends.” 

“Uh-huh. Which is why you two write totally platonic letters back and forth nonstop, right?”

“You just wish you had a friend as cool as Luna,” Noct grumbled, but her whole face was still red. 

“Hey, remember the last time she was over, and you asked her to marry you--” 

“I was ten! And she's pretty.” 

“Dude!” Gladio snickered, slapping the counter with a laugh. “You've got it so bad. Does Luna know you're still hot for her?” 

“I can legally have your tongue cut out, you know,” Noct reminded, stalking out of the room red-faced, reappearing with a pen and journal, clearly scribbling out a note for the Princess of Tenebrae. 

“Listen,” Noct said, handing a note to Gladio; a phone number. “Can you do something for me? It's important, and I need it done soon, and Ignis is busy….” 

“Anything.” 

\----

 **From: dat hot guy/ur only friend**  
 **9:15 pm**   
_is there a reason Noct had me rent out an entire pizzeria next week? Cuz I can't come up with a good explanation and I'm too scared to ask_

 **From: The Milf**  
 **9:45 pm**   
_I suppose I'll get down to the bottom of it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for staying til the end! 
> 
> Since this is a fix it fic of sorts, Tenebrae is still independent and Luna and Ravus are Princess and Prince. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciate! Have a great day!


	8. Before You Burn it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like a black and white film, watching Prompto slowly stand, leaving the pretty camera unattended on the bedsheets, disheveled from where the blonde had been perched. He stopped before Ignis, glancing at their feet, the apples of his cheeks a dusky pink hue Ignis hadn't really recognized before. Maybe it was the fact they were both exhausted--today had been as traumatic as it was long, and they both had lost a little of their wits along with their inhibitors--or maybe it was something to do with the way Ignis’ eyes looked both petrified and knowing as he gazed upon the younger man. 
> 
> Prompto just scuffed his sock clad feet against the carpet, glancing up at Ignis again through his long eyelashes, blonde without mascara. “I, uh, never did learn how to dance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much to all of you for the kind words and kudos on this fic. I've had a few newcomers talk to me on my tumblr (@thicchocobobutt) which is more than welcome! I appreciate all the love so much ♡ 
> 
> This chapter is a bit longer than usual, so apologies, but this is the last "filler" chapter before the plot starts! I'm very excited to get to the heart of this fic (I've changed a few of the tags if you want to guess what's to come.... ;) 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! And happy belated birthday, Prompto ♡
> 
> (Tw: swearing, injury, implied sexual references, mentions of eating disorders, and Ignis being a bit discriminatory/classist)

“Prompto, put your hand on her _waist_.” 

“Dude! We're in the Citadel! I can't just--what if someone sees?” 

“You two fucking suck at this.” 

Prompto's first trip to the Citadel proved to be less than thrilling, for the other three at least. They'd merely walked past the throne room and Prompto had looked as if he wanted to puke his guts up. 

The four of them were currently on the upper level of the training wing, a private area where Noct and Gladio spent most of their sessions away from the prying eyes of the glaives. Even Cor gave them privacy up here. It had hosted several crying pity parties (both on Iris and Noct's part) as well as several untoward make out sessions (this time the blame fell on Ignis and Gladio, fifteen and full of hormones) but today it was a bit different. 

Ignis had thought dancing lessons, alone in the dim lighting of Prompto's kitchen might not be best for his plan to avoid feeling things for the boy, so he'd invited Noctis, and by extension, Gladio, along for the lesson. The Princess wasn't much of a dancer herself, but picked it up easily enough, and seemed graceful to a point that it hardly mattered. 

Prompto, on the other hand, was miserable. It was adorable, to say the least. 

Ignis and Gladio were leaning against the wall, weapons racked neatly behind them, and Ignis’ grip on the bar was white-knuckled in an attempt to prevent himself from storming across the room to adjust Prompto's posture, instead just called out another order that the boy staring, hopeless. 

“Like this, Prom,” Noct said, switching positions so that she held the male stance, her thin arms a bit too wide, but doing a hell of a lot better than her taller counterpart. Gladio chuckled under his breath, watching the two of them with an amused expression and a rosy hue to his cheeks Ignis would have to address later. Perhaps it was obvious to Gladio that Ignis had feelings for Prompto, but Gladio was making no move to hide the lovestruck expression on his own face. 

Perhaps he didn't know yet. 

All they needed was another powder keg. 

Both and Noct and Prompto were in...training clothes, for lack of a better word. Dancing in sweats didn't exactly provide realistic atmosphere. 

Ignis didn't make Noct wear a corset (because, frankly, he hated to lace the bloody thing and she'd do nothing but complain), so he opted instead to let her wear the black bralette she'd be wearing that night, along with a tulle underskirt that was pressed comically up against Prompto's knees, making every pale inch of his exposed skin a rosy red, flushed and flustered. Noct was nearly as tall as him now, wobbling in a pair of tan heels (not the pair she'd be wearing for the Gala, but similar enough to simulate the desired practice.) 

Prompto was in a smaller pair of Ignis’ dress shoes, a pair he'd retired not too long ago for being a bit worn, but worked here for all intents and purposes; they kept trampling all over each other's feet--Prompto nearly in tears once or twice. He was lucky enough to be in a pair of crownsguard issue training sweats, despite the fact Ignis insisted it was not the same struggle that came with a dress jacket and slacks, but...he looked cute, so Ignis really couldn't argue too much. 

Looking was all Ignis was allowing himself these days. 

“The Gala is six days away, you two, and you're doing just awful. Gladio is a better dancer than you.” 

“Hey! I am an excellent dancer, Scientia, and you know it!” 

“Yes, yes, anyway--perhaps a break, you two? Go get some water. There's tea in the training longue, and I'm sure Noctis would be kind enough to show you,” Ignis sighed, watching the two of them relax against one another, elbows at their sides, and Noct immediately reaching for Prompto's bony, bespectacled hand, the knuckles flushed a sharp pink. 

“Take my hoodie, Noct,” Gladio called before the two were out the door. “Don't need the glaives sneaking pics of your tits to sell to the press, okay?” 

“Please do not say that word again,” Ignis groaned, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“Knockers.” 

“I am not in the mood for this--” 

“Rack, tatas, love sacks--” 

“I will find a way to make his Majesty execute you, you know, and I'm not sure it would be difficult,” he groaned, letting himself sink to the floor, his legs flush with the blue mats. It had been eons since he'd sparred with anyone, and Gladio was giving him that look that meant he either wanted to kick Ignis’ ass, be in Ignis’ ass, or hadn't had a date in weeks and was just looking for some gossip. 

“You gotta stop staring at the kid, man, he's gonna catch on,” Gladio warned. “All he ever talks about when I'm driving Miss Daisy around is how he thinks you hate him, and when you're nice it's just because you feel guilty.”

He did feel guilty; that was the awful thing. He felt guilty for being cold, when he knew Prompto deserved affection but he also felt guilty for being kind, knowing his motivations behind it were less than appropriate and knowing he'd have to go back to being cold to avoid all these _feelings_ brewing in his chest. 

It had gotten to the point where the bitter pangs in his chest felt less like fireworks and more like cannon fire. Seeing Prompto nightly for their lessons, watching the boy try to decipher the emotions on Ignis’ face--imagine someone trying to break apart Ignis, who observed for a living--was painful. Every time Prompto brushed against him, smiled, reminded him how excited he was that they'd be full fledged friends soon was almost to the breaking point for Ignis, more than he could bear. 

Would it reach that summit, the point where he wouldn't be able to say no to him? He felt helpless. 

It's not as if Prompto would ever reciprocate his emotions; he'd been disappointed to realize the boy was actually going through with Noct’s plan to lie about his sexuality. It was a little more than splintering. Ignis had never been bothered by the fact he had to stay in the closet--his private life had always been his private life, no one else's business--but Prompto mentioning the ‘cute boy in his art class’? Yeah, it was a lot sometimes. Too much. It felt like sinking. 

“I'm fully aware,” Ignis sighed. “I am trying to remedy the situation.” 

“You're gonna ask him out?” 

Ignis nearly spit. “Astrals, no.” 

He should've moved on to the fact Gladio and Noct had been exchanging glances for the better part of the day, but the children were already strolling back in. Prompto was grinning, walking towards Ignis with a bright smile, his hand extended. 

“Brought you some coffee,” he grinned sheepishly, holding it in front of Ignis’ dazed face. “Felt bad about being such a pain in the ass--” 

“Nonsense, Prompto,” Ignis stumbled carefully, taking the warm cup between his gloved hands, the heat palpable. “It's my pleasure to teach you.” 

_Pleasure? Really? Why in the bloody hell had he said that?_

“Cafe doesn't serve alcohol so I brought you water; take a fucking sip, babe,” Noct said, throwing the bottle across the room at Gladio, his shin very nearly compacted had it not been for the shield's quick reflexes. 

“Thanks, jerk.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Citadel’s cool,” Prom said, standing to the side with Ignis while Noct stretched in the middle of the floor. He was so close Iggy could make out the goosebumps across his neck in the chill of the training room, the circles under his eyes. He'd looked tired, recently, and today he'd been more stoic than usual--as stoic as Prompto could be, anyway. 

Ignis couldn't help but smile. “Indeed. I was hoping you'd enjoy the field trip. A little change of scenery is always good.”

Screaming internally, searching for someway to back pedal, Ignis shot Gladiolus a glance that meant _shut it_ over the rim of his glasses. _I was hoping you'd enjoy…?_ Ignis was an idiot today. 

“Mmhm,” Prom nodded, seeming a bit tired. 

“Perhaps after your crownsguard exam I could find the time to give you a proper tour--sans the lecture about ancient kings; although, I can show you the ballroom Noctis once paraded naked through in the middle of a press function.”

“You're _kidding_ ,” Prom grinned, his ocean eyes wide and excited, smile so wide his lip split. Ignis was staring. 

“Goodness, I wish. She was six, and never wanted to wear clothing--I'm sure you're familiar with the habit--and His Majesty was signing off funding for the children's home. You can imagine the amount of trouble I was in for letting her slip away like that.”

Prom frowned. “They didn't serious hold you accountable for that?” 

He shrugged, remembering all too well the lecture he'd received from Cor as he wrangled the Princess back into her quarters, wailing the whole time. “I was supposed to be watching her.” 

“You were eight, dude. I didn't even know how to tie my shoes yet.”

Prompto was still looking at him with those ocean eyes, and Ignis knew it was best to keep his gaze on the ground, lips sealed to avoid any inappropriate comments--but Prom was looking with furrowed brows and parted lips, like he was piecing a puzzle together across the advisor's frame. 

“It was hard, wasn't it? You didn't really have a childhood either, huh?” 

The _either_ shot Ignis through the chest the same time an sickening headache rocketed through his skull, just behind his ears, making his fist reach out for purpose--reaching for Gladio--

Who was across the room, bent over Noct. 

“Highness!” Ignis called, drinks forgotten as he and Prom jogged across the mats to land beside the Princess, on her back with her hands fisted in her hair. Eyes were pinched shut, but misty at the corners. 

“Fuck,” she wheezed, waving them away with a forced laugh. “I'm fine, go away. It's just my back.” 

Gladio's hands were probing gently along her bare sides, watching Noct's face for signs of pain. “You're supposed to let us know when it's hurting, dumbass. You pulled something stretching?” 

“I dunno,” she whispered, her voice wet with a sob. “I don't think it's a loose screw or anything I just, fuck, can't breathe. Can Iggy take me home? This is embarrassing--fuck, that _hurts_ , don't touch me!” 

Gladio snorted mirthlessly, his face dark and eyes obviously panicked as he slung her legs over his lap, yanking the tulle skirt aside so he could get a better look at the scarring across her back. 

“We aren't moving you till we know what's up.”

Prom had seen it a few times before--he didn't stare, though. He knew was it felt like, having people be hyperaware of your scars. Still, seeing the palpable bruising pooling in her spine was a lot. Ignis looked sick. 

Gladio and Ignis locked eyes over Noct's head. 

“I'll call the doctor; take Prom home and get your ass back here.” 

Prom paled. “I wanna stay--” 

Noct groaned as Gladio rolled her back onto her back. “Go _home_ , Prom!” 

Prom froze, torn for a moment, glancing between Ignis, who was roughly yanking Prom to his feet and where Noct lay crying on the floor. “Y-yeah. Okay. Yeah.” 

\----

The car ride was silent. Ignis was going well above the speed limit--perhaps the Regalia was above the letter of the law, but Prompto was past caring. His mind kept replaying Noct's face in his mind, scrunched up and wet and the purple blotches blooming at the base of her spine. 

“Has it happened before?” he asked, holding tight to the dash as Ignis took another sharp turn going fifty miles an hour. 

“A few times,” Ignis replied coldly. “It usually leaves her bedridden for a few weeks, unfortunately, and even after that her therapy must be ramped up. I'm worried what it means for the Gala.” 

Prom blinked. He was worried about the Gala, when Noct was lying on the floor crying? 

“She won't require surgery, likely, but the potions will more likely than not take quite a bit out of her. She'll be tired...possibly depressed,” Ignis paused, licking his lips in consideration. “Would it be possible for you to spend the night with her a few times a week? She doesn't let me coddle her anymore, and the body heat helps--” 

“I'll be there,” Prom promised, clenching his jaw in a way that accentuated the shadows around his eyes. It didn't matter that he was falling behind in his studies or that his mood had been plummeting for weeks now. “Promise me you'll tell me when you know she's okay?” 

“I promise.”

Ignis was being unnecessarily sterile, curt, and looking at the clock he uncharacteristically swore. “Apologies, I should've picked you up some lunch--” 

“You have to get back to Noct,” Prom said, and Ignis nearly wrecked the car turning to look at him. Prompto had mimicked his cold posture, closed off with crossed arms and clenched jaw. 

It shouldn't have hurt nearly as much as it did, to see Prompto take the hint and realize Ignis wasn't interested in being friends. 

Ignis should ask if he's okay--but that would mean he cares. And he doesn't. He can't. 

He needed to stay focused on Noct.

\----

“What in Eos do you think you're doing?” Ignis screeched, watching the Princess attempt to push herself around the apartment in her wheelchair, tape stuck to various parts of her hair, wrestling with what looked to be a very heavy, very large box and a roll of yellow and pink wrapping paper.   
“I can do it myself,” Noct called indignantly. “I don't need your help.” 

Regardless, Ignis only rolled his eyes, setting aside his coffee and work file on the edge of Noct's couch. He'd settled in after their brief stint with a medic--Noct would be fine for a few days time, but she was meant to be heavily resting; not that she ever did what anyone told her. They'd gone to Ignis’ rooms in the Citadel to retrieve a few things: toothbrush, hair products, a few changes of clothes and a briefcase full of files that he needed to review for meetings. 

Ignis always stayed with her when she was ill, and he'd already taken up residence in her guest room. Still, it really was like watching a toddler as Noct defiantly knocked into furniture with her wheelchair, attempting to be autonomous for the first time ever. 

Still, the two of them together felt more like home than Ignis’ marble rooms at the citadel, all cold, dark granite and mirrors. Not that Ignis would admit that, but being with Noctis wasn't always like rearing a child; it was like having a little sister. 

“Tck, you couldn't wrap that even if you did have all your devices about you--give it here, I'll do it.” 

She reluctantly passed it over, and Ignis robotically wrapped the pastel paper around the box, before he began to question who in the world she'd bought a brand new gaming system for, along with wrapping paper with little chocobo chicks on them. 

“Noct. Who is this for?” 

Noctis whined. “Don't tell me Gladio didn't tell you. I know he told you! Prom's birthday is tomorrow--I was gonna kidnap him at midnight because I rented out the Minnie Moogle Pizza Arcade downtown.” 

Ignis blanched. “Of course you bloody did. Noctis, you're supposed to be in bed.” 

She looked like she might cry, lips parted and eyes still wet and red with the pain. “Please, Specs, we can't not do it--”

“If it's a surprise party, I'd be more than happy to throw one here, tomorrow, and he'd been none the wiser,” Ignis offered, still feeling sick and oddly empty handed. It wasn't as if they were friends--and Ignis had just bought him a gift for the Gala. 

But then, Ignis let himself imagine the way Prompto might smile at him with those dangerous blue eyes, standing much too close to comfort. Close enough that Ignis couldn't trace his constellation of freckles without going cross-eyed, his pretty pink skin dyed different colors from the kaleidoscope lights of the arcade. Close enough to the feel the warmth of his skin, maybe their arms would brush, and Prompto would be soft, because everything about Prompto was soft and new--

“You know his parents won't be home all day tomorrow--and I owe him for going through all this shit to join the crownsguard. He's like drowning in homework and I've been such a shitlord to all of you lately and--Ignis, he's my only friend. Please,” she begged, fingers stretching out the sleeves of Gladio's too-big hoodie, worrying at her lip with her perfect teeth. “You know he deserves better than whatever shitty birthday card his parents stuck on the fridge.” 

It was one of those moments, the kind that had been happening all too frequently; do what's best for her wellbeing, or help her be happy? She needed to stay in bed and rest, but then she'd cry all night, feeling guilty and selfish, and it's not as if Ignis had the power to convince her otherwise. The only person she'd ever listen to was Prompto, who Ignis owed most of Noct's happiness to. Prompto did deserve the world, all of it. 

Noct was to be Queen one day. 

Why not listen to her? He sighed. He could never say no to her. 

“Call Gladio. I'll warm up the Regalia--and for Shiva’s sake, brush your hair, please?” 

“Yes! You're the greatest, Specs!” 

“Indeed.”

\----

After a quick run to the store for party supplies--and a bit more gifts, paid for with Noct's sleek plastic card gifted her by her father--Ignis had the three of them parked in front of Prompto's house, the lights dimmed. No cars in the driveway, but that wasn't necessarily an indicator that his parents weren't home as Gladio pounded on the door, causing Ignis to wince and Noct to giggle, the Princess checking her phone every few minutes from the backseat, letting Ignis know it was half an hour until midnight. 

It really did feel like a party, oddly enough, knowing there were balloons and a little cake with a race car on it sitting in the trunk, along with Noct's wheelchair. She was still in sweats--the only thing suitable with her injury--the top half of which belonged to Gladio. It was like she was having Iris express ship his closet to her, as much as she was wearing his clothing. Gladio himself was dressed identically in a matching set of black joggers and a dark hoodie. Ignis had allowed himself another day for darker khakis, and a blue cotton tee, since he'd planned to spend most of the night on Noct’s couch. 

“I do wish you would've let me know ahead of time,” he sighed for the umpteenth time. “I would've baked the boy a decent cake instead of buying one from the bloody grocers deli.” 

“Watch your mouth, Specs, and shut up--Prom's coming to the door.” 

And he did--opening it, scarcely dodging Gladio's fists where he was beginning a second round of knocks. Ignis was a good four yards from the door, but he could barely make out Prompto's frame clad in lime green oversized pajamas, his blonde hair a mess, and his thick glasses askew on his face. 

It was a cute. 

But his eyebrows rocketed into his hairline when he saw Gladio, going pale immediately, and from the Regalia’s parking spot he could hear the boy whisper, “What's wrong? Where's Noct?” 

Gladio snorted mirthlessly. “She's fine. She's in the car. Just go get dressed and get your ass back out here, we're on a schedule.” 

He looked confused, and Ignis couldn't blame him, what with Gladio's poor instruction detail, but he obeyed and retreated back into the house, emerging a bit later in an emerald green turtleneck that looked a bit worse for wear and a pair of ripped up skinny jeans. He'd left his glasses on, and had simply combed through his bedhead, leaving the curling waves a bit fuzzy, too fluffy, framing his face and barely restrained by those bright red barrettes he wore at home. 

Ignis nearly choked when he piled into the passenger seat. Prom didn't even spare Ignis a glance, though, just turned in the backseat to stare at Noct, who was carefully readjusting her head on Gladio's lap, so as not to jostle her back too much. 

“Hey, dude,” Noct grinned wildly. 

Ignis could only make out the profile of his expression from this angle, but he could see enough that the boy looked angry. 

“You didn't call to let me know you were okay.” 

Oh, shit. 

Prompto whipped his around to look at Ignis for the first time, ocean eyes containing a typhoon of emotion behind the misty glaze, and none of it held any pity for the advisor. “You either,” Prompto accused. “And you _promised_.” 

Ignis’ throat closed up. Behind him, he could hear Gladio snickering as Noct threw out a quick string of apologies. He'd meant to, he'd just-- 

“I get it, you forgot me or whatever, but, Six, Noct, I was waiting by the phone all night wondering if you were okay,” he grumbled. “And you didn't….” 

“Prom, I'm really, really sorry. Will you hold my hand?” 

Gladio slapped it away. “You aren't allowed to stretch that far, dumbass.” 

“Hold Specs’ hand,” Noct harrumphed indignantly. 

“I'm driving,” Ignis reminded coldly. “And we'll be arriving shortly.” 

“Where are we going?” Prom asked, but was met with only silence. “Guys?” 

\----

The Minnie Moogle Pizza Arcade had seen better days. It was a shoebox of a building, on the slummy side of the city, sandwiched between a BDSM store and a Chinese Restaurant. 

True to their word, though, the place was empty, with the exception of two tired looking employees, a middle aged woman with purple hair and a girl who looked about Gladiolus’ age, her cleavage on a nearly impossibly outrageous display, despite her red and purple button up uniform. She stamped their hands, as if the kids would get lost, but Prompto's eyes were gleaming in the arcade lights, staring in wonder as Ignis handed him a balloon from the trunk of the Regalia. 

Gladio eased Noctis into her wheelchair--in her sweats and baseball cap, she hardly looked like a Princess, but Ignis still had to give the two girls behind the counter _the talk_ (“Surely none of your friends or the media will hear about this till the six of us are safely home, yes?” earning Ignis wide eyed nods as he made certain their cellulars were not on their person). 

“Happy Birthday, Prom,” Noct mumbled, reaching out for his hand as Gladio wheeled her up beside him. 

“Dude.”

Prompto was still staring with those shell-shocked eyes, wide and unseeing at the sensory overload that was the arcade.

There were fifties style red-pleather booths down at the front, by a little stage where little animatronics danced to affronting children's music, and Ignis excused himself to one, tying balloons to the chairs and setting out the cake and presents for whenever Prompto was done crying all over Noct's sweatshirt. Gladio doled out the coins for them to play a very moderate game of skiiball, before joining Ignis at the table. 

“How is he?” Ignis chuckled as the pizzas arrived, Gladio already beginning to help himself to one covered in meat and grease. He'd have to amp up the hidden kale in Noct's diet this week for sure. 

“Overwhelmed. Don't think the kid has had this kinda birthday party, maybe ever. Noct said he didn't have any friends when they were kids.” 

“Sounds familiar,” Ignis sighed, remembering what a hassle it was trying to convince Noctis to attend his classmates birthday parties. 

“They're good for each other,” Gladio sighed, looking a little forlornly at his pizza crust. “When do you think they're going to figure out they're in love?” 

Ignis couldn't help the vicious snort that tore from his lips. Prompto was crouched beside Noct's wheelchair across the room, piling tickets into her lap where he'd clearly won the jackpot on some luck of the draw machine, a pixelized Moogle dancing happily across the screen. They were beaming at one another. 

Ignis had read Noct's journal with frequence, as well as her texts. 

“I don't think we have to worry about too much, Gladiolus. This may not be in your vocabulary, but I think those two love each other a touch differently than others do. It's entirely platonic--the intensity of it doesn't negate it, nor does the fact they each have rampant hormones that need taken care of from time to time. They're young.” 

“Not in my vocabulary…” Gladio grumbled, before nodding at the cake. “You're taking the fact he just turned nineteen well.” 

Ignis shrugged, trying too hard not to think about it. “I'm merely twenty.” 

“You'll be twenty-one in February.” 

“That's besides the point. You and I both know I have no intentions of acting upon my...feelings.” 

“Mm,” Gladio said snidely, taking a quick swig of his orange soda. “Which is why you snuck off to buy him another gift tonight, right? By the way--he's wearing the wristband. Hasn't shut up about how cool it looks, either.” 

Ignis choked at how fast his head turned. Sure enough, Prom had the green sweater sleeves rolled up, his pale pink arms dotted with freckles and downy hair, and the thick black leather band stood out like a lighthouse beacon. 

“You're smarter than this, Iggy,” Gladio warned, standing from the booth. The furlined robots on the stage seemed to rattle their gears when he stood, looming near their knees. “Either you wanna get with him or you don't--but this is gonna blow up in your face if you aren't careful.” 

“Specs! Look at this shit!” 

“Do refrain from swearing in public, Highness,” Ignis warned, but nonetheless let his eyebrows hike into his hair. Her wheelchair was positively buried in hot pink tickets, Prompto grinning wildly behind her as he pushed the chair around up to the end of the table, sliding in beside Ignis without a thought. 

“Prom kicks such ass at Road Racers, Specs, you should've seen him.” 

“Seems the cake is appropriate after all, then, hmm?” Ignis grinned, passing them both plates of pizza--meat for Noct and plain for Prompto. It was remarkable how Ignis’ brain had dug up four years worth of information on Prompto that he'd previous filed as irrelevant. How he liked his pizza, the classes he'd enjoyed in highschool and the ones he hadn't, the way he'd complained about when his sneakers wore out in the soles like he'd run for too long in PE, all of it found its way into Ignis’ nighttime thoughts now. 

Prom was blushing beside him, staring at the red race car cake with the curling script that read _Happy 19th Birthday Prompto!_ with a little hot wheel racer stuck in the icing. 

“You guys really didn't have to go to all this trouble….” he mumbled, drumming his fingers on either side of his paper plate, staring at the pizza rather than eating. 

“Dude. We wanted to. Shut up and deal with it,” Noct said around a mouth full of food. 

“Y-yeah. Thanks. All of you.” 

“No trouble, I assure you,” Ignis smiled, despite himself. They were less than four inches apart, and Ignis could see every downy hair on Prompto's forearm, exposed where his sweater sleeves was shoved up. Ignis had picked the wrong day to only wear short sleeves. If he leaned over, their skin would brush, as if Ignis couldn't already feel Prompto's body heat radiating between them. “Consider it an overdue reward for all your hard work these past few weeks. You've beyond earned your crownsguard entrance in my book.” 

Prom smiled bitterly, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Here's hoping the Marshall agrees, huh?” 

“You're gonna do great, Prom,” Noct assured. “They haven't kicked me out yet.” 

“I'm sure there's a reason,” he snorted. “I still can't dance, though.” 

“We'll find the time to remedy that, I assure you,” Ignis promised, but Prom was still giving his plate a pained, faux smile, and Noct doesn't look as if she sees it. 

“Prom brought up the fall festival, the week after the Gala--why haven't we ever been? It sounds like a fucking blast,” Noct said, reaching for a fourth slice. If Ignis touched another piece of pizza his skin would break out with an unholy amount of acne--and he wasn't looking to do that with the Gala upcoming. Prompto had taken exactly three bites of his slice. 

Ignis shrugged. “It's usually a commoner affair. Taking you means either going incognito, with Gladio and I and a few Glaives or going as you are and you would be bombarded most of your time on the street. Hardly enjoyable, and the security detail required would scare citizens, as well as make it no fun for you, as you'd have no privacy the entirety of the night.” 

“Oh,” she mumbled. “So, I guess Prom and I shouldn't take Luna then, either, huh?” 

Ignis’ eyebrows shot into his hair. “Who in the world told you we'd have guests from Tenebrae?” 

The flash from Gladio's selfie with the robotic Moogles on the stage went off late, only bathing the shield in white light to further highlight his sheepish grin. 

“I should've guessed,” Ignis murmured. “As much as I'm sure the Oracle would enjoy a trip to the slum to eat caramel apples, I believe the two of you will be hosting a diplomatic tea together to discuss further relations.” 

Noct frowned. “Can Prom come? He wants to dance with Luna at the Gala.” 

Ignis arched a brow. So much for the sexuality diversion. “And here I thought your interest in dance lessons were scholarly. I'll see what I can pull to allow Prompto to be on the retinue that day, should he behave well at the Gala.” 

“R-right,” Prom muttered again, looking pale. 

“Are we cutting the cake or what?” Gladio grumbled, squeezing past to Noct to land in the booth. Ignis’ eyes narrowed. 

“I don't think you've deserved any cake. Are you aware your father has messaged me over three times this week begging me to convince you to cut that hideous hair of yours? Not to mention that chin strap--” 

“It's an artistic scruff,” Gladio grunted. “And there's nothing wrong with hair.” 

“Nothing except it's not up to code--” 

“I like it,” Noct chimed. “It's gonna be long enough soon he can wear it in a stubby ponytail. It'll be funny.” 

“Indeed. At least get the undercut trimmed before the end of the week? I have two children to look after as it is.”

Noct snorted. “Children. I've never been so insulted. C’mon, Iggy, present time!” 

\----

Prompto was red faced and mumbling before the night was over, begging Noct to take back every expensive gift she'd bought him, but it ended in the two of them balanced in her wheelchair, taking selfies with the Moogle dancers, Prompto's plate still almost entirely untouched. Ignis scrapped it into the trash regardless, and boxed up the leftovers for Prompto to take home. 

Noct was beginning to yawn, her face pinched every so often with pain in her back, and it was Prom who first suggested they head home--the sun wouldn't rise for another three hours, but Ignis agreed, taking the four of them back to the apartment after Gladio had pried himself away from the busty girl at the counter, scribbling her number on his tanned arm in sharpie. 

“Sure it's okay I spend the night?” Prom asked for the tenth time. “I don't wanna make you like, watch us all night or anything, if they're making you or whatever….” 

“It's alright, Prompto,” Ignis sighed again, trying to fight off the imagine of Noct dragging her black painted fingernails across the soft, clear plains of Prompto's stomach--he'd never seen the boy shirtless, but his wild imagination, inhibited by the lack of sleep and the early morning air, had provided him with a rather artistic rendering. “We'll put you in the guest room for the night.” 

Of course, that meant Gladio on the couch, and Ignis, well...Standing room only from that point, and Ignis wasn't quite ready to sink to sharing a bed with Prompto. He supposed he and Gladio could share the bed, but it left Prompto with the couch, and an undisturbed in to Noct's room--Who wasn't in away able to partake in any kind of sexual activity. 

“Cool. Sounds good.” 

Gladio had to lift Noct into bed, despite her overzealous protests, but let Ignis give her a potion while Prompto changed into a pair of Ignis’ pajamas. He'd forgotten to tell the boy to pack a bag for the evening, and all of Ignis’ things were still laid out for his stay there. 

Which meant he needed to go into the room and grab his own change of clothes and his toothbrush. Perfect. 

Prompto was standing in the middle of the floor when he arrived in the room, decorated in the tans and soft creams most guest rooms were tastelessly done up in. Ignis’ pajamas nearly swallowed him, and it was then that Ignis noticed how sharp the cut of Prompto's jaw had become, his cheeks looking hollow where they once were round. 

“Are you feeling a bit ill again, Prompto? You didn't eat much at dinner,” Ignis said in way of greeting, immediately cursing. Not exactly a great example for the conversation etiquette they'd been practicing for weeks. 

Prom just shrugged, eyes looking oddly panicked. “Um, thanks for the pj's. And the party--I'm really sorry I snapped at you in the car,” he rambled without thinking, glaring at his hands in horror, turned almost entirely away from Ignis now. 

Ignis watched the boy change chameleon colors--blanched white to a broiling red under the collar of the silk pajamas, his ears claret and barely masked by the frizzed fluff of his hair. “You weren't out of line, I assure you.” 

“It was still mean--” 

“You were worried about her,” Ignis sighed, attempting to bite back on the words before they all came tumbling out. “And I'm afraid I've been rather cold lately as well.” 

Prom blinked, turning those ocean eyes on Ignis again, emotion so deep he thought he might down--

No, this was drowning. It had been the whole time. 

He huffed a laugh, scratching at the back of his head with nails dirty from the arcade. Ignis made a mental note to see to it he got a manicure this week. “It's okay, dude, you've been stressed about the Gala, and I know I'm a pain in the ass--” 

“You aren't,” Ignis assured with such intensity, that he was terrified Prompto could suddenly see all of it, past the petty crush and all the way to the fact there were piles of unfinished cases due to the fact Prompto was the only thing Ignis could think about during the day, the purple bruising under his eyes due to the fact Ignis spent his nights reluctantly daydreaming about holding the blonde’s face between his hands and pressing his lips to the constellation of freckles across his skin. “I assure you, you've never been a burden, Prompto. I apologize if I've made it seem that way.” 

Ignis could taste the words on his tongue, how juvenile it all felt, the _I like you_ crawling it's way up his windpipe, and Prompto was still staring at him in confusion, glancing at his hands--and then Ignis remembered. 

“Apologies, I wanted to give this to you before you went to bed; Astrals, it's nearly five, I should see myself out--” 

But Prompto's nimble fingers were already unwrapping the small package, staring at it in wonder. 

“Ignis, how did you--”

“It's a Polaroid, nothing exciting. I know printing pictures can sometimes be expensive, and I've heard there's something to be said for the hipster aesthetic of instant shots. You might send them off in letters to Princess Lunafreya if all goes well, yes?” 

Prompto didn't know what this feeling was--the splintering confusion coming to a head, trying to determine if Ignis tolerated him or not, and Prompto had called him out on it and here was the advisor, giving him gifts--a pastel yellow brand new Polaroid. 

“This is too much--” 

“Nonsense; it's your birthday.” 

“You already gave me the bracelet!” 

“That was practical, for the Gala, my job as an advisor. This is for you to make up for missing so much school. For fun, because I wanted to treat you.” 

Ignis watched Prompto pull the pieces from the box and do the minimal assembly, and the boy, despite his lethargy, managed to make conversation. Just like Ignis had taught him. 

“I guess you're gonna be pretty busy with the Gala this week, huh?” 

Ignis groaned. “Indeed. Between diplomatic affairs I'll also be seeing to decorations and itinerary in Noct's place--you needn't worry, however, I'll be here to assist you and Noct to get ready the night of the Gala. I won't let you fly blind.” 

Prom licked his dry lips, nodding. “So, uh, I guess our lessons are over, huh?”

Ignis hadn't thought of that. “Until further instruction from the Marshall, I suppose so.” 

It was like a black and white film, watching Prompto slowly stand, leaving the pretty camera unattended on the bedsheets, disheveled from where the blonde had been perched. He stopped before Ignis, glancing at their feet, the apples of his cheeks a dusky pink hue Ignis hadn't really recognized before. Maybe it was the fact they were both exhausted--today had been as traumatic as it was long, and they both had lost a little of their wits along with their inhibitors--or maybe it was something to do with the way Ignis’ eyes looked both petrified and knowing as he gazed upon the younger man. 

Prompto just scuffed his sock clad feet against the carpet, glancing up at Ignis again through his long eyelashes, blonde without mascara. “I, uh, never did learn how to dance.” 

Ignis swallowed loudly, comically, like a character from one of Noct's favorite raunchy adult cartoons, staring at Prompto with those early autumn eyes, and Ignis was thankful Prompto kept his gaze on their feet, so that Ignis had time to school his expression. 

“Are you asking for a lesson now?” 

Prom shrugged. “Whenever you've got time.”

Ignis made a show of checking his watch robotically, still shell-shocked that Prompto was standing so close to him _Don't read into that gaze, this isn't what you think it is._ 4:57 am. He had to be at work in an hour. 

“I'm free now,” Ignis rasped, his throat embarrassingly raw. 

Prom grinned, holding out his arms, and Ignis nodded, bracing for impact as Prompto placed his bony hands over Ignis’ shoulder and waist. Both their faces were a claret shade, Ignis froze and Prompto trembling, their foreheads a little dewy with nerves. Prompto was staring at Ignis’ chest, clearly waiting for instruction. Ignis had almost two inches on the blonde boy, and if he leaned forward, he could rest his lips against the crown of his head. 

He wouldn't, though. This was strictly professional. 

“You know,” Prom hiccuped in an airy voice. “In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you wear a tee shirt. You look nice.” 

_Oh, bloody--_

“You're leading, Prompto. Three-fourths time, waltz.” 

“Oh, right--” and then Prompto plucked Ignis’ hand up with the hand that had been on his shoulder, and they were holding hands-- 

Ignis picked the bloody worst time to leave his gloves beside the kitchen sink. 

Ignis was almost exactly right about the way it would feel, touching Prompto--Astrals, it wasn't much, nothing more than Prompto's hand on his waist, Ignis’ hand on his shoulder, and their hands clasped together, a foot of space between them. 

Still, Prompto's hand was cold, a tad bit clammy, and his bony fingers looked comically small in Ignis’ square hand, but there was warmth coming from Prompto's lithe limb, peaches and creme skin dotted with freckles and a mole or two and Prompto _was_ soft, just like he'd imagined. 

They were dizzy, Prompto was counting too fast, and Ignis was a tad bit aware he was breathing harder than normal--he hadn't been in his right mind to remember how much he loathed dancing, especially when he wasn't leading. Prompto was watching their feet with an alarmed expression. It was hard to tell from inside the eye of the hurricane, but it seemed as if Prompto was running them off the rails. 

This proved to be true when Prompto ran them straight into the wall, clipping Ignis’ shoulder against the dresser, the two of them falling away from each other with alarmed expressions, staring at each other wide eyes, pink cheeks, panting--and Ignis had read enough of Gladio's unrealistic romance novels to know this had to mean something, surely, the way Prompto was staring at him like he had to say something--

The clapping from the door startled them both, and the sight of Gladiolus in his boxer shorts nearly scared them silly. 

“Yeah, the Princess is gonna really fall for you after you give her a concussion,” he snorted, arms folded, obviously flexing. 

Prompto was still having trouble breathing, face pink, but had the decency to frown. “I don't want--nevermind. I'm so sorry, Iggy.” 

“It's quite alright. We'll try to avoid dancing in busier rooms next week,” Ignis coughed, straightening out his shirt where it had ridden up to expose his stomach. “Can I help you, Gladiolus?” 

“Figured I'd bunk in here with the twink so you could keep an eye on the patient. I don't know what fucking vial to give her when she farts the wrong way like you do.” 

“Twink?” Prompto squeaked, his face nearly purple from embarrassment. 

“I'm quite alright with it if Prompto is; and please refrain from saying anything that would force me to fill out any incident reports with the citadel, if you don't mind.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I'll keep my hands to myself. Unless, you wanna--” 

“ _Gladiolus!_ ”

“Fine, fine, go brush your teeth Count Anal Retention. You too, skeletor.” 

Ignis felt Prompto on his heels the whole way to the bathroom, could practically feel the boy's breath huffing against the back of his neck, slamming the door behind them as they entered the privacy of the bathroom, spinning to face one another and--

“Is he always like that?” Prom murmured in awe, reaching for his sleepover toothbrush they'd inserted years ago due to Prompto's frequent visits.

It took Ignis an embarrassingly long time to come out of his stupor, realizing, no, Prompto wasn't going to kiss him senseless against the shower wall and yes, he had misread the entire dancing situation because he was tired and out of his mind. 

“If he bothers you, I fully consent to you staying in Noct's room--not in the bed, of course, she can't be jostled, but I can set up a cot for you.” 

“I'll be fine,” Prom mumbled around a mouth full of toothpaste, the blue foam collecting at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry about your shoulder. Is it bad?”

Ignis hadn't even a moment to consider the dull throbbing in his arm, the adrenaline high pooling out of him at slow speeds; he'd crash soon. He needed a can of ebony. 

“I'll live.” 

“Thanks again for the pajamas, Iggy. It's, uh, really weird. They smell just like you.” 

It was as if Prompto knew exactly what to say to make Ignis go wild--he wasn't sure which part of his body had gone through the most trauma today; whatever part of his traitor brain that decided his heart should have feelings for Argentum, or his reproductive organs not knowing when to activate or shut the bloody hell off. 

“Good, I hope?” he choked, shoving his toothbrush further into his own mouth, pushing his disheveled bangs back with a hand. He needed a haircut. 

Prom nodded. “Ivory soap and boy's deodorant--the cool kind that grandpas use, not like, icky chocolate axe. The Irishy kind.” 

Ignis tried to let his brain short circuit, because very suddenly his brain had hardwired these feelings for Prompto from lilac fields and sunny days to a bit more brokeback mountain scene. 

Ignis should've said something then, just a quick laugh or something that passed it off. The choked noise that came out of him instead was mildly embarrassing, and for all his efforts, all his training in diplomatic positions, and he could manage to do was mutter a quick, “Good night, Prompto” before darting out the room. 

He was slipping on his jacket in the foyer when he heard the boy call his name again, making Ignis dart around, suddenly blinded by a bright flash of light. 

“What in blazes--” 

“Sorry!” Prom stage whispered, shaking out a square page of what appeared to be film, the yellow camera balanced carefully in one hand. “I just thought you should be the first thing I shot, since you gave to me. I think it'll turn out good!” 

There was probably a metaphor there, most of them involving cupid, but Ignis just grinned painfully. The sun would be up soon.   
“I shall be excited to see what else you manage to capture, then. Happy birthday, Prompto. Get some rest, yes? Promise me you'll look after Noct tomorrow. You're always to patient with her.” 

“Can do, Captain! Don't slave too hard at work, okay? Make sure to get some rest. I'll man the ship here!” 

“I know. I'll count on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading till the end! As always, comments and kudos are very very appreciated ♡ It means so much that all of you have taken an interest in this fic and read this far. 
> 
> This should be the last intensive pining chapter, I know it's getting boring. The plot really begins next chapter, with the beginning of the Gala! I hope everyone is excited! 
> 
> Have a great week, everyone, and I'll see you next update! ♡


	9. You've Got So Much To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto realized too late Ignis had caught him staring. Shit, he'd said something. 
> 
> “I'm sorry, what?” Prom squeaked. “Zoned out for a sec.” 
> 
> Ignis chuckled. “I said, would you like me to do you, Prompto?” 
> 
> “ _What?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo!! This is so late I'm sorry!!!  
> 1) I'm sorry for the delay in posting this. I've had a crazy week between an emergency surgery and preparing for finals, but here it is!!  
> 2)I actually cut this chapter in half. The original version of this chapter was about 12k words, but I'm splitting it into 5k chunks for purposes of readability.   
> 3) finally, the Gala is here! This chapter and the next are going to be very plot heavy, but then we can actually get to these idiots falling in love   
> 4) thanks so much for all the love and support and for being patient while I worked on this! It means so so much!

The bite to the autumn air had finally begun to sink it's teeth in on the final day of October, the same day of the Gala. There was some sort of relief to it, if they were all being honest, a sort of rebirth to the cool air that wiped away the sore memories of summer. 

Noct's back still groaned and creaked in the chilled air, but she also felt a little older, a little happier despite the anxious thrum in her chest cavity.   
Seeing Luna would be a definite bonus of the evening, but no one, least of all her father, would let her hide in the corner with the Princess all night. It wasn't that Noct was even particularly shy; she just had the skilled ability that was repeatedly screwing up social events, leaving Ignis to come along behind her and mop up the mess. 

Ignis, meanwhile, had little time to consider the horrific events of the past week and all things involving Prompto, between the crisp wind and the Gala planning. Regis had sent him home early the evening before from overseeing the decorating and the itinerary, so he'd actually had a decent night's sleep. 

Getting the children ready for the event would take a better part of the day, so Ignis had made sure to dress comfortably, as well as bring up some snacks. Noctis and Prompto had been confined to the apartment for nearly a week, with the exception Prompto coming and going for class. He'd been kind enough to take over Ignis’ duties and look after Noctis while Ignis was at the Citadel, and he'd done a rather good job of it. He'd look into repaying him once this mess was all over. 

Ignis was less than surprised to find Umbra at the door to Noct's apartment, scratching at the entrance and whining, clearly trying to get someone's attention, before turning on Ignis with tired eyes. Ignis gave him a soft smile. 

“I'll deliver it to her, don't fret.” 

Umbra relinquished the journal into Ignis’ palm, and Ignis scarcely repaid him with a loving scratch behind his ears before the pup darted off, scampering up the street loyally, not doubt on its way back to the Citadel to find his owner. 

The inside of the apartment revealed why they hadn't heard Umbra--Prompto and Noctis were both on the couch in their pajamas, twin bowls of cereal balanced in their laps, the tv blaring some drivel cartoon that had been popular when Noct was a child. 

When they both were children, Ignis too. He erased that, occasionally, and it was becoming a tad bit alarming. 

“Delivery, Highness,” Ignis called, setting the journal down on the kitchen counter, trying to ignore the way the two of them lit up when he walked into the room. 

“Yes! I was hoping she'd write!” 

“Heya, Ignis,” Prom called, sliding into a seat at the kitchen counter to smile at the chamberlain. “Caught up on all the prep work?” 

He groaned, a decidedly un-Ignis sound, but it made Prompto snicker nonetheless, Ignis offering him a kind smile. “Hardly. However, they'll have to manage without me. You two are my priority for the rest of the day.” 

“You got demoted, huh?” Noct mumbled. 

She pouted, but went back to reading over Luna’s words with a bright gleam in her starry eyes. 

“Prom, get out your camera and snap a picture of the three of us, will you? I wanna send it back with Luna.” 

“Noctis, don't you think you should at least run a comb through your hair first?” Ignis murmured quietly, giving her a knowing look. “The Oracle might be more inclined to see you if you look a bit more presentable.” 

She didn't even take the time to look offended, just sagely nodding, darting immediately for the shower. 

Ignis heaved a heavy sigh, fixing Prompto with a tired grin. “And thus begins the start of a very long day.”

\----

Ignis and Noct were no strangers to this sort of thing. They'd spent most of their childhoods together, and these party days had long since lost the charm they'd had in their youth. Everything was routine, painful, even, in a tedious sort of way. 

For Prompto, however, the buzz of excitement still hung in the air--something so new and terrifying it had all the air in chest compacted into a fist, clutched tightly around his heart. This was it, wasn't it? The judgement he'd been working on for weeks now? All he had to do was not totally fuck up at this party, and he'd at least be on his way to a crownsguard exam. Easy peesy. Maybe. 

All he had to do was stay by Ignis. Stay with Ignis. 

The party was still hours away, but there was something domestic about the three of them huddled in Noct's apartment, getting ready for the evening. He'd nearly had a stroke when he'd strolled past the bathroom to see Noct in a towel, perched on the edge of the tub, Ignis carefully brushing powder across her cheeks. 

“I didn't know you knew how to do makeup, Iggy,” Prom grinned, as if finding out a little secret. Ignis stole a glance over his shoulder, smiling despite himself, shrugging. He had one hand braced on Noct's pretty pale thigh, and, for just a moment, something sparked in Prompto's chest that felt an awful lot like jealousy. 

Which didn't make any damn sense? Even if something was going on between Noct and Iggy--which, Ignis totally wouldn't do, right? Even if he did like her, and, c’mon, who didn't like Noct?--he would know, wouldn't he? And, Prompto didn't, ya know, _like_ like Noctis. He'd tried, and maybe he had in like, middle school or something, but he knew they were better than that, than some stupid crush. 

He smothered it, rising to perch himself on the granite counter of the bathroom, nearly planting his ass in the sink. 

Noct rose an eyebrow at him. “What, you don't remember when Iggy used to wear makeup all the time?”

Prompto nearly choked. “Uh, c-can’t say I do?” 

Because he would've remembered. He should’ve. 

“I believe it was still a bit early in your friendship when I was still dabbling in the art,” Ignis muttered stoically. “You probably didn't take much notice.” 

“He did it for years man, how can you not remember? It's why his contour is so sick,” she grinned, jutting how to her jaw to show Prompto the perfectly blended lines. It was good. “Snag my phone off the counter, there's totally a picture. I've got a whole file for Ignis pics.” 

“I suppose I'm flattered that you're organized about something,” he grumbled, but the tips of his ears were pink, barely covered by his bangs. He'd been sorely in need of a haircut for a few days, but what with Gala preparations, things had been pushed to the side; namely, his bangs. 

“Holy shit,” Prom muttered, staring at the phone screen with wide eyes, at what was clearly a 17 year old Ignis, his jaw absolutely fucking cut and his highlight on point. Not only that, but his hair was gelled perfectly, straight up and not a hair out of place, showing off perfectly sculpted temples. “How do I not remember this? Dude, you're _hot_.” 

Ignis spluttered, spilling glitter down the front of Noct's towel, the other two erupting in laughter. 

“I didn't do it for fun, I had a poor complexion and I was simply trying to look professional--” 

“You don't gotta explain to me, dude,” Prom breathed, still staring wide eyed. “Really, you looked great--not that your glow-up isn't impressive! It's just, uh.” 

“I think that's enough, Prompto.” 

“Why don't you wear your hair like that anymore?” 

Noct snorted. “What, the fuckboy haircut everyone had in middle school? Ouch! Specs, that's my eye, watch it!” 

“Sorry, Highness,” Ignis muttered unapologetically, continuing to wave the mascara wand aimlessly. 

“No, no, it looks good on him. Really, you should do it again, you have a perfect bone structure.” 

“Hmm,” Ignis said non-committally. “Perhaps if Noct sits still and I have time to get ready myself, I might attempt something similar.” 

“Ooohh, let me help!” Prom begged, still thumbing through the files of Ignis, young and smiling politely. There were several in a row of he and Noct on a fishing boat, years and years ago, smiling brightly at each other.   
“Yeah, Prom is good at doing awful fuckboy hairstyles, let him help--ouch, Specs, I swear to Shiva--” 

“If you're not going to say anything nice to your best friend, perhaps it's best not to talk at all, hmm? I didn't pluck your eyebrows out of kindness but I will if you don't behave. And, thank you, Prompto, I would appreciate the help.” 

Prompto snickered as Noct folded glumly in on herself, muttering something about getting it all out of her system before the Gala. 

“Cool,” he muttered back, sitting the phone down and watching Noct dodge Ignis’ attacks with a pair of tweezers. “Dude, just sit still and let him do your makeup. Then you'll be done.” 

“It's not about being done, dude, it's the principle of the thing!” she grumbled. “I mean, I know I'm gonna look fly, but he's the only one that cares so I gotta make him work for it.” 

Prompto expected Ignis to look exasperated and tired, because even Prom could acknowledge she was a brat, but Ignis just smiled at her, bracing one hand on the back of her head to steady her, brushing more glitter along her clavicle. It was endearing, almost brotherly to watch. 

Yeah, Prom would kill for someone like Ignis. He couldn't stop staring at the way his hand, bare, held fast in Noct's curls and how his lips curved in an amused, loving way when he glanced at her. Someone to take care of him? Yeah, it sounded pretty damn good. 

Prompto realized too late Ignis had caught him staring. Shit, he'd said something. 

“I'm sorry, what?” Prom squeaked. “Zoned out for a sec.” 

Ignis chuckled. “I said, would you like me to do you, Prompto?” 

“ _What?_ ” 

Ignis, to his credit, kept his cool, even as Prompto vaulted himself off the bathroom counter and nearly tripped over his own feet as Prompto realized his error. 

“Your makeup?” Ignis asked, voice a tad scratchy. Great, now Prom had made him uncomfortable. Of course he hadn't meant, you know, doing Prompto. Geez. 

“U-uh, yeah! Sounds great! Thanks, Iggy.” 

\----

Dressing was an entire other affair, that included wrestling Noctis into her slip and her corset, where she demanded to hold onto Prompto while Ignis laced her up. The whole thing sounded a bit too much like a porn Prom had watched once, and he was nervous until Noct started digging her black-painted finger nails into the scruff of his neck as Ignis pulled the strings tight. 

“Specs, I won't be able to sit down if you don't stop!” 

“Twenty inches is the standard, Highness.” 

“What's more important?” she gasped for air, clawing at the front of the fabric. To her credit, or, more Ignis’, Prom had a face full of a lot of boob that had materialized out of nowhere. Or maybe it was her organs had filtered up into them, having nowhere else to go. “The Princess of Lucis being alive or a twenty inch waist?” 

Ignis planted his foot farther back for better leverage and gave a sharp tug on the strings, and Prompto swore he must've lost an entire patch of hair. 

Ignis did let Noct rest in one of Gladio's hoodies, not bothering to dress her yet (“She once ruined a sixty thousand dollar gown when she was fourteen by spilling nacho cheese all over it thirty minutes before an assembly. Never again do I leave her alone with the gown.”) as the two of them still had getting ready to do. 

Ignis, true to his word, let Prompto sit on the edge of the tub, his sock clad feet swinging as Ignis gently applied the cool foundation to his cheeks, the pads of his fingers softer than Prompto remembered from that night in the hallway, when Ignis had taken his temperature. It seemed eons away now, and he couldn't help the blistering smile that came to his face, even when Ignis grimaced and demanded he relax his muscles. 

So, maybe Ignis didn't like him at all. He'd come around, right? Gladio was kinda annoying too, and Noct was a brat...and yeah, Prom wasn't a blue blood, but he was really trying his best here. Still, Ignis was practically glaring holes into Prompto's lips for all the emotion he showed when he applied a clear lip gloss, the fuzzy applicator tickling a little as it glided across the sensitive skin.

Prompto noticed Ignis smelled like aftershave. 

So, Ignis didn't like him yet, but he didn't hate him anymore either, right?

“Thanks a ton, Iggy! Need any help with yours?”

“We need to be at the Citadel in no less than two hours; I suggest fixing your hair and getting dressed promptly. And do eat something, will you? You haven't all day.” 

He wouldn't even look at him as he dug through the black makeup pouch, producing what appeared to be a travel bottle of hairspray. 

“Uh, yeah. Sure thing, buddy.” 

\----

The ride to the Citadel was done in mostly silence. Noct was still pouting, half because she could barely sit in her seat. Her gown, midnight and shimmering, filled up more than half the backseat. She was currently sans jewelry, but Ignis had managed to coif her hair in a certain way that made her too-long pixie cut look artistic and regal. She didn't really look like Noct at all, between her smooth torso and and plunging neckline with cleavage that definitely shouldn't exist; and he totally would've been staring if Ignis hadn't looked so, well, _hot_. 

Prom had never really thought guys were hot before, but unsurprisingly, Ignis was great at everything. The man cleaned up nice. 

Ignis had opted out of makeup; he really didn't even need it, the man's bone structure and misty complexion did all the work for him. He'd taken Prompto's advice, however, and slicked his hair up. Looking decidedly less severe, and suddenly much older, Prompto kept watching the way the tips of his bangs curled against the back of his neck, bouncing despite the tight hair sprayed hold as the car dipped over the holes in the paved road. 

Ignis was pretty. 

Prompto felt a little gay. 

He immediately blamed it on the fact he'd been staring at guys for weeks now while in Ignis’ presence, in a half assed attempt to go along with Noct's plan and convince Ignis he'd suddenly given up his love of boobs. Ignis had made it perfectly clear he had no intention of leaving Noct alone with anyone, dick lover or not. 

Prompto caught his own reflection in the mirror and scowled. While Ignis and Noctis looked like CGI renderings from an animated fairy tale, Prompto looked positively feral. Sure, his makeup was done perfectly, cheek bones sharp and jaw cut, and his hair was slicked back against his head in a way that made him look a bit more professional, but something about the tux still felt both too big and too small. The suit jacket made him look lumpy, like it swallowed him, but the button up seemed too tight across his back, even though Ignis had assured him twice it was a perfectly tailored fit. He kept pulling up his pants so that they'd sit higher on his waist, cover up a tummy roll that wouldn't disappear, no matter how many sit ups he did. 

It was something in his eyes, too, that looked too tired and too hungry, not the cool, calculating look that always resided in Ignis and Noct's gazes. It was another reminder he didn't belong here. 

He just had to pray the Marshall couldn't see it. 

The front of the Citadel was swarmed with fancy cars, flashing camera bulbs, and Prompto remembered with a horrifying lurch that there were paparazzi here tonight. Ignis had gone over briefly how to deal with it, sure, but the notion of someone shaking him down for info on Noct seemed dizzying. 

Ignis didn't pull in line with the other cars, instead drove the long way around the Citadel, to the back parking garage where the glaives parked. 

“Do stay away from the windows, children, the last thing we need today is a scandal.” 

They were waved in without fanfare, and Ignis promptly drove them up to the highest level of the garage, throwing Noctis a cloak to go over her dress, arranging the hood over her face so as to not upset her hair. 

“What I'm doing could get us in trouble,” Ignis said once they reached the elevator and the doors closed soundly in front of them, causing both Prom and Noct to turn to him with panicked eyes. Ignis, however, obeyed the elevator etiquette and kept his eyes forward on the doors, his expression neutral. “So I'd appreciate it if you both kept quiet and were quick in what we're about to do.” 

Noct paled. “Uh, Specs? Wanna fill me in?” 

The doors sprung open, revealing a long granite hallway, and a guard in black military dress standing directly in front of the elevator. 

Gladiolus. 

“Glad--” 

“Shhh,” he placed a finger to his lips, winking at the both of them, before nodding his head in the direction to the left and lead them down the hall to what appeared to be a bedroom Prompto had never seen before. 

Noct looked vaguely panicked, nearly jogging to keep up with the taller three, her lip jutted out in a pout as Ignis deftly unlocked the door to the large quarters and shuffled them inside. 

Noct spun the second they entered. “Why are we in my old room? I--”

“Princess Noctis.” 

It was sort of like watching an old black and white film, honestly, the way all of the anger and confusion melted from Noct's face, shoulders slumping as the tension left them entirely. Ignis and Gladio were both smirking at her as she turned slowly, the cloak falling off her shoulders to reveal the starry sky gown again with all the leather shoulder pads. 

Lunafreya, if possible, was more beautiful than Prompto imagined, and he'd imagined her a lot. Her letter was stuffed still in his desk drawer, the perfume long faded, but it felt as though he had it in his breast pocket of his suit jacket for how heavy his chest felt. 

She was smiling at Noct, her bare, milky arms open wide, her white dress shimmering like gossamer wings as she moved. Her lip glossed lips were in a blistering smile, seeming to struggle to stay composed as she gazed on Noctis, who was sprinting across the room in her heels to throw her arms around the other princess. 

Prompto smiled, watching the two of them giggle, Luna pressing kisses into Noct's hair as the smaller girl held tightly to the other woman's dress. Noct looked like she might cry, her smile was so wide. 

Their contrast was striking; Noct all night sky and Luna all moonbeams, Noct lethargic and stoic where Luna was bright and composed. Something about them seemed like they belonged together, though. Two pieces of the same thing. 

The future Queen Regent and her Oracle. 

“You've got five minutes, Princess,” drawled a tired voice from the bed, and Prompto realized there was another woman in the room, making his skin prick with warmth. “Then we gotta head down for pictures and shit.” 

“Of course, Aranea, of course,” Luna said, still smiling and wiping at her own cheeks, reaching up to cup Noct's face between her hands. “You've gotten so grown up, the pictures don't do it justice, sweet Noctis.” 

Noct was blushing, and Prom realized too late he should probably be looking away, only to find too that Ignis and Gladio had already dispersed throughout the room. 

Lunafreya’s retinue wasn't at all unlike Noct's. It appeared that she had a guard, and adviser, and someone else lurking about the room, looming and tall and peering at the books on Noct's old bookcase.   
The woman on the bed, chatting (re: avoiding Gladio's flirting) with Gladiolus was in military dress not all that different from Gladio's, except she'd chosen to forgo the top six or so buttons of her blouse, and Prompto wasn't sure how to avoid looking at that much cleavage when it was present. Her silver hair was rashly done up into a frizzy ponytail, and she was flipping through something on her phone lazily, refusing to meet Gladio's gaze. Luna had called her Aranea. 

Ignis had crossed the room, talking to a dark haired woman in a tux, her silky dark hair flipped over her shoulder when she laughed good naturedly. The two of them carried on a conversation, but their eyes were both on their respective charges, smiling fondly at their exchanges, the way Luna held Noct's hands for dear life. Ignis thanked her, called her Gentiana, kissed her finely manicured hand and stalked back across to Noctis, placing a hand on her back. She looked panicked when Ignis informed her it was nearly time to go. 

“Ignis is right, your Highness,” Gentiana addressed her Princess, taking her by the arm. “We ought to be going.” 

Luna’s blue eyes sparked in surprise, before, to Prompto's horror, turned on him. 

“I haven't gotten to say hello to Prompto yet.” 

Ignis blanched, turning with incredulous eyes to Prompto, who glanced back at him with terrified ones. 

He'd spent years and years day dreaming of this moment, what he'd say to Luna, how he'd thank her; now, here she was looking at him and he couldn't conjure up a damn syllable. Ignis, wide eyed, seemed to be in a state of shock and was next to no help. 

_Fuck. Remember what Ignis taught you. How would you address Noct? Bow!_

His body lurched awkwardly, fumbling forward in an odd bow, bent at the waist and red faced. “It's, uh, it's an honor to finally meet you, your Highness.” 

Luna was smiling kindly at him when he popped back up, closer in proximity than he remembered, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when her fingers brushed his wrists under the cuffs of his tuxedo. The bands Ignis had gifted him felt heavy on his wrists. 

“Apologies, your Highness, introductions are in order,” Ignis recovered swiftly, marching over before Luna shook her head--her nose wrinkled, adorably, still smiling at Prompto with those awestruck eyes. 

“There's no need, Ignis. Prompto and I are old friends. Isn't that right?”

Prompto nodded frantically, feeling a bit light headed, and nearly fainted had Luna’s grip on him not been so reassuring. Prompto felt six pairs of eyes on him, boring bullet holes into his side, but Luna just squeezed his hands again, and something in those crystal eyes of her were speaking to him. 

_Breathe. You're alright, I've got you._

_Calm down._

_Thank you._

Noct was attempting to shoot Prompto a confused look across the room, clearly uncomfortable about this sudden revelation. 

“Princess?” Gentiana called, adjusting the cuffs of her tuxedo with a bored expression. “We really should be going.”

Luna squeezed Prompto one more time before releasing him with a smile, darting over once more to kiss Noct on the cheek. 

“I'll see you all soon.” 

“I trust the guards they provided you with are treating you well?” Ignis asked, as if suddenly remembering his civilities. Aranea, clambering off the bed, nodded. 

“They gave em Nyx and Crowe,” Gladio amended. 

“They've been very kind,” Luna assured, pausing in front of the door to glance back into the room, quirking her head to the side. “Aren't you coming?” 

Prompto had nearly forgotten about the other looming figure, his hair tied up similarly in the style of Lunafreya’s ponytail braid combination. The tresses were snowy, and he was a bit paler than Luna, but eons and taller, with shoulders like the Titan holding the world. Everything about him looked sculpted, even under the white military dress they'd placed him in. 

Ignis had made Prompto memorize the names of the royalty, and there wasn't any mistaking this; Prince Ravus, in the flesh. 

“But of course. My apologies; I was admiring Princess Noctis’ book collection.” 

Noct seemed unimpressed, studying her crystalline heels with intensity. “They're for decoration. Never read ‘em.” 

“Mm,” Ravus said amicably, causing Noct to shoot her eyes up in suspicion. She'd brought up more than once that she and Prince had failed to get along as children, something involving a horror story and one of Noct's favorite action figures, but Ravus seemed kind enough to Prompto, if not a bit boring despite his size and features. Still, he offered Noctis a thin lipped smile, bowing as he passed her. “I do hope you'll save room on your dance card for me this evening, Princess.” 

“For both of us!” Luna called with a smile. “You too, Prompto. We aren't done catching up.” 

“Y-yeah! Course, uh, your Highness.” 

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Noct drolled, eyeing the retinue suspiciously as they left.

Luna smiled back them, eyes drifting until they settled on Noct again. “See you on the other side of the battle, sweet girl.” 

“See ya.” 

The door clicked soundly shut behind them. 

Ignis sighed. “Noctis--” 

“What the fuck,” she stated calmly, holding out her palm, ticking off her fingers like a list. “One: what the absolute fuck. Two: how the fuck. Three,” she glared, turning to Prompto. “Who the fuck, dude?” 

Prom shifted in his spot, shoving his hands into his pockets, pressing at his instant camera for comfort. “Did I, uh, not mention I'd talked to Luna before?” 

“When?” Ignis and Noctis demanded simultaneously. 

Prom felt too warm, hollow inside and sweaty. “Uh, um, before we were friends?” 

Noctis glared. “How long before, Prom?” 

“Years?” 

“Prompto!” 

“Noct, please don't be mad--”

“What the absolute fuck! When were you gonna tell me about this?” she screamed, and, to Prompto's horror, her eyes filled with tears. “What the fuck did she do, write some random loser from school and beg them to be friends with me?” 

Gladio and Ignis barked to attention immediately, coming to Prompto's defense. 

“Hey! Out of line, Noct!” 

“We aren't doing this here. It's neither the time nor the place,” Ignis growled, pressing a kleenex to Noct's face. “You two are best friends and this is a very important event with dignitaries from other countries. You're the Princess, you're now an adult, and you cannot look like you've been crying, do you hear me?” 

“Fuck you!” she growled, turning her eyes on Prompto. “She did, didn't she? She asked you to be friends with me. This is fucking rich.” 

Prompto, to his credit, didn't cry. Didn't turn red, didn't collapse, didn't do much of anything. 

It's the easiest thing to do when people stop loving you; just shut down. 

“Calm down, now,” Gladio warned, moving as if to step toward her. 

“Stop, look, it's fine okay? It's fine. Whatever. Let's get this shit show over with and then we can talk about this later,” she grumbled. 

“Highness,” Ignis sighed in a tired voice, reaching for a box seemingly hidden in the drawer of the nightstand. 

If Noct hadn't seemed overwhelmed before, the sight of her mother's tiara definitely threw her past that point. She let Ignis wordlessly clasp her choker and slide in her diamond earrings. She winced a bit as Ignis slid the circlet on, artfully arranging her dark bangs over the silver band that cut across her forehead. 

“You look great, Noct,” Prom hummed in a hoarse voice. She didn't look at him. 

“Let's go.” 

\----

To Prompto's relief, they didn't have to enter the ballroom separately, he didn't have to speak to the king or bow or humiliate himself. The four of them simply slid in line with the other arriving dignitaries, albeit a few more guards flanking their sides. 

Noct was introduced at the top of the staircase, standing alone, with Gladio nearly invisible just behind her shoulder. There was a brief hush to the chattering in the room below as she walked down, her head high and eyes disinterested, and Prompto watched as all eyes were on her, camera bulbs blindingly bright. 

“Are you alright?” Ignis asked quietly, his face a mask of a polite smile as he gave their card to the announcer. Ignis reached out for Prompto's arm, linking them together so that they stood side by side.

For a moment, Prompto had forgotten that this was a date, that he was _Ignis’_ date, and the whole thing sounded so absurd it felt like a dream. All eyes were still on Noctis when they called out Ignis’ name, title and all, tacking on Prompto's like an afterthought.

Ignis’ heat against his side was a reassurance, as helpful as was his grip on Ignis’ forearm, reminding Prompto they weren't doing tonight alone, even as all the cameras blinded him as they made their way down. 

Ignis was patient, lit up prettily in the golden candle glow of the room, and he was the only thing Prompto could keep his eyes on without looking feeling particularly lightheaded. Sick as he felt, he ignored the overwhelming urge to bury his head in the crook of Ignis’ neck to hide himself from the room. 

“Please don't let me ruin tonight, Ignis,” Prompto whispered hoarsely as they descended the grand staircase, clutching so tightly to the sleeve of Ignis’ suit he was afraid it might rip. 

“Stay by my side,” Ignis instructed kindly. “And I promise we'll make it out alive. Have a little faith in yourself.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I believe in you, Prompto.”

The room was exactly like Prompto expected--fancy ladies, marble floors, candle chandeliers and waiters with bubbly drinks Prompto knew to to stay away from. Noct was already in the fray, forcing smiles for a grey-haired woman in a giant maroon dress. Her father was on a dias, seated at the head of the room, his eyes obviously on her. 

Ignis was silently observing, as always, but it was seemingly more noticeable with his hair swept back from his eyes. Prompto watched him curiously, still holding fast to his arm, wondering what Ignis was really looking for. 

“What's wrong?” Prompto asked without thinking, watching Ignis scowl, squinting in the direction of the center crowd, towards the fray, before schooling his features into something more neutral.

“I'm not sure,” Ignis murmured. “But I'm going to find out. I'll make quick work of it, don't fret; the sooner the Marshall sees you're holding your own in the fray the sooner we can get to you actually enjoying your evening, yes?”

Prom nodded, a stray strand of blonde hair falling across his eyes in his haste. Ignis frowned. 

“You're certain you're alright? We can go back. You're under no obligation to go through with this, Prompto.” 

Prom shook his head. “I'm fine, dude, I promise. Besides--I promised her.” 

Ignis did little to cover the visible wince that crossed his features. “She will forgive you, you know. She just needs time.” 

“I know.” 

He chanced another curious glance at the smaller man, looking positively green around the edges of his collar. “If you don't mind my asking, how do you know Luna?” 

Prom swallowed. “Well--” 

“Well, I'll be damned. If it isn't Mr. Scientia. I wasn't aware they let you out of your chambers to play!” 

A woman was wobbling across the room to them, smiling a bit too widely behind a heavily painted mouth, her arms open wide as if meaning to embrace them. Ignis let out a low hiss. 

“Claudine Hopper from the Insomnian Times,” he murmured so that only Prompto could hear, his gloved hand coming to rest over Prompto's where it was laid on his arm. “Do let me do the talking.” 

“Contrary to nasty rumors, I do have a social life,” Ignis said with a stiff grin, his eyes clearly displeased at the interruption. For all Ignis had gone on about being civil, he certainly was doing little to mask his distaste of their new guest. 

“Of course,” the woman grinned. “And they've even let you bring a date, how charming.” 

Her grey eyes slid over to Prompto, causing a swift chill to shake down his back. He smiled amicably, like Ignis had taught him, but something about Ignis’ hold on his hand told him not to introduce himself. 

“Where are you manners, Ignis, won't you introduce me?” 

Something in her gaze told Prompto she knew exactly who he was, that there was a reason she was here and not with the other hoards of paparazzi swarming Noct in the center of the ballroom, snapping pictures and asking intrusive questions. 

Ignis gave his hand another squeeze, and Prompto let himself hold tight to the sleeve of his jacket for support. 

“This is Prompto. He's a good friend of mine.”

Her finely manicured eyebrow slid into her hairline. “Friend, huh? Such a shame, here I was hoping the prodigal son had finally found himself a lover.” 

Something in her statement struck a nerve, because Ignis’ entire body twitched, making him stiffen against Prompto's side and his lip quiver from its smile. 

He uttered a quick, “I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” all hospitality gone from his tone, replaced by something icy, almost threatening, but the reporter just grinned like a shark. 

“You know,” she drolled on, looking lazily at her wrist, as if to check her watch. “You look an awful lot like the boy the Princess was dating in highschool. What was his name? Peter?” 

Any civility Ignis had left in his reserves was gone from his face. It was that chilling, diplomatic _don't fuck with me_ look that made Prompto's empty stomach twist in on itself. 

“Claudia, perhaps we can do this later? Prompto and I have a meeting to keep with the Marshall.” 

“ _Prompto_ ,” she grinned, eyes going wide and throwing her head back with gleeful giggling. “Prompto! Of course, that's what it is was. It is you, isn't it? I remember when we had that nasty underage law forbidding that there were pictures of the two of you--but you're old enough now, aren't you dear?” 

“Goodbye, Claudia--” 

“And now here you are with Mr. Scientia!” she leaned in close, causing Prompto to recoil against Ignis’ collar, fingers nearly tearing the cufflinks out of Ignis’ shirt his grip was so tight. “You're just planning to sleep your way down the royal Lucian line, aren't you, darling?” 

Ignis’ grip was stifling, the way he pulled on Prompto's collar so tightly as the music for the waltz began, Ignis steering them toward the dance floor, taking the lead despite Prompto's wobbling legs. 

“I can't--” 

“Breathe,” Ignis instructed, eyes watching something over Prompto's head. “You're doing just fine. Ignore her. Pick up your feet a bit, you're dragging.” 

The rosy golden hues of the room were spinning, the candle flames blurring into the bulb flashes of cameras and the shimmering gowns of dignitaries. The murmuring of the crowd, now pressed at the edges of the fray, was growing in volume to combat the heavy lull of the violins playing for the waltz. 

“Breathe,” Ignis murmured again, stepping a bit farther away, his hand a steady anchor on Prompto's waist. “The Marshall is watching, do try and school your expression a bit.” 

_Fuck, don't cry._

“Remember all that you've worked for, Prompto,” Ignis urged, dipping them just a bit to the side, going into their next turn with grandeur. He proved to be a better dancer than he'd let on, gracefully leading them across the shining stone floor with ease. “You're doing this for her, aren't you?” 

Noctis. Fuck, where had she even gone to? Not that it mattered if Prom did get the Marshall's approval; she never wanted to see him ever again. It was probably for the best. He didn't need to be in the papers, and Noct didn't need her name getting dragged through the gossip columns just because some lady decided to make up some story about them sleeping together. 

“Even if you can't do it for her,” Ignis murmured, green eyes searching for something just behind his shoulder--the dias, the King, “Do it for you. You've more than earned it. The crownsguard will pay for your schooling, for an apartment of your own. You've worked so hard and--” Ignis paused, as if thinking better of something. “We're all proud of you. Noctis loves you, she isn't going to abandon you. I'm not going to abandon you. Not now, not when this is all over.” 

Prompto's vision stopped swimming for just a moment, and then it was all Ignis in his line of sight. Dyed golden in the light, hair slicked back and green eyes glowing, Prompto felt more than reassured, more than comforted. 

Ignis was the closest thing to a parent Prompto had ever had. 

He felt shitty even thinking it; he had good memories with his parents, after all, he just didn't have many of them. Ignis, though, Ignis cared for some weird reason. Yeah, it was because of Noct and yeah, maybe Ignis didn't like him all that much, but he cares enough to at least fake it. 

That was enough. 

“You look like you're going to have an aneurysm,” Ignis chuckled, a sly smile coming to his lips, making Prompto's whole face get warm. 

“Shut up.” 

“You aren't going to die, I promise. Just be yourself.” 

The spinning was making him lightheaded, and even as the music slowed to a resounding stop, Prompto couldn't help but lean forward to rest his forehead against Ignis’ shoulder, letting his eyes slip closed. Ignis spun them a few more times in comforting dips, almost as if he were rocking a child, letting his chin come forward to rest against Prompto's temple. He squeezed where their hands were intertwined.

It was intimate, overly familiar, and no doubt the Marshall would be displeased with it if he saw, but Prompto desperately needed the comfort. 

Ignis needed the comfort. 

The room stopped spinning long enough for Prompto to realize the music had stopped, despite the fact it still felt as though his legs were dragging in their finely confined dress pants, and drew away from Ignis just in time to watch the advisor school his features back into the civil mask he wore. 

“Let's get you something to eat, yes? You look a little ill.” 

Ignis kept his arm around Prompto's waist, Prompto feeling all the while useless, despite his buckling knees, as he lead them to a snack table piled with foods that definitely weren't the junk Prom was used to.   
A figure cut them off before they arrived at their destination, sliding in front of the two boys, nearly causing Ignis to drop Prompto's weight as he removed his arm from the smaller boy. 

“Mr. Argentum,” the Marshall greeted, his jaw set in a constant grimace. “I see that Gladiolus was right; you do clean up well.” 

Ignis couldn't help the scowl that came to his own face. Cheeky bastard. 

“Thanks--uh, thank you, Sir,” Prom stumbled, face pink. Ignis was pleased to see he maintained his eye contact, however, and kept his features cool and collected, despite the fact he was drumming his fingers anxiously across his thighs. 

Cor gave a tight-lipped smile, his icy gaze coming to rest on Ignis. “Gladiolus tells me the two of you have been working together in preparation for the exam?” 

“In my free time, of course, Marshall, at her Highness’ request.” 

“Mm,” Cor agreed, and Ignis noticed for the first time that his cheeks looked a bit pink, as if he'd been drinking. “And, in your professional opinion, do you think Argentum should be granted entrance to the crownsguard?” 

Prompto sucked in a quick breath, watching Ignis’ mouth drop into a frown. “Provided he pass his examinations--” 

“That's not what I asked,” Cor cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Do you think he should join the crownsguard?” 

Ignis cleared his throat, eyes darting to the floor, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Well, Marshall, he's still very much a work in progress.” 

_Ouch._

“But,” Ignis amended. “He's worked diligently the past month on these lessons as well as balancing his university studies and his part time job. Her Highness is very found of him, as well.” 

Cor snorted. “Favoritism will get you everywhere around here, Argentum.” 

Ignis frowned. “I haven't been giving him any special treatment, if that's what you mean.” 

“I don't want to join the crownsguard because Noct said I could,” Prompto interjected quickly. “I wanna prove that I can. I don't wanna slow her down any--I wanna be able to protect her, too. Someone has to give Gladio and Ignis a break--uh, Sir.” 

To Ignis’ surprise, Cor actually smiled, reaching out to cuff Prom proudly on the shoulder, making the smaller boy stumble a bit, leaning on Ignis again for support. 

“I think you're gonna fit in fine around here, Argentum,” he grinned, leaning in close so that Ignis could ascertain for certain that yes, the Marshall really was that drunk, “You know, you remind me a lot of me when I was younger. Don't let stuffed shirts like Scientia tell you you don't belong here, kiddo. Your exam is in two weeks. Start studying.” 

The two men were still dazed as the Marshall ambled off, leaving Ignis staring after him. 

“You have no idea how unprecedented that was,” Ignis murmured in confusion. “I've never seen the Marshall that docile in my life.”   
Prom let himself grin for once. “Someone's jealous I'm just that impressive.” 

Ignis snorted, nudging Prompto with his shoulder. “Beginners luck, I say.” 

“Well, some of it goes back to your teaching, after all.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Ignis said with a smile, before checking his phone with a frown. 

“Something wrong?” Prom asked. 

“I'm not sure. Do me a favor and stay here? I'll just be a moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter should be up fairly soon. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and have a great day ♡♡♡


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